


The Finder

by Roadrat



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AU - Modern fantasy, AU - monsters, F/F, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, Trans Female Character, Trans Male Character, Trans non-binary character, like asbestos soaked in water and set alight slow, lots of queer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-08 01:30:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7737982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roadrat/pseuds/Roadrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's Hinata, a Wingback, and there's Noya, who may or may not be his cousin, and there's Tanaka and Kenma and Suga and Kuro.  There's humans and there's monsters.  There's Edo and its people.  And then there's the stranger, tall and grumpy and made of secrets, and Hinata is going to discover them all, no matter how much it hurts.<br/>---<br/>In which there's romance, monsters, psychics and a conspiracy, not necessarily in that order, and Hinata just needs to know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So I posted the first chapter before, had kind of a mini freak out about it, deleted it, rewrote it, and now I'm posting it again. It's better now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's never a beginning. There is a sequence of things which affect one another. There are decisions which influence other decisions, actions which were done because actions have been done before. Everything, ultimately, is full of consequence - even the things that don't seem like it. And Kenma knows this, it's what makes him good at reading situations, at understanding what will happen next. But if you asked him how it all began, he would probably say this: “I put my phone back down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW in this chapter for:  
> Emetephobia in the first section  
> Descriptions of panic attacks in the penultimate section and the section before.
> 
> EDIT: Changed a few things in the first section and entirely rewrote the second in order to include a subtle dick joke.

Hinata is eight years old, leg broken and bent, holding his friend's hand and laughing. He has thrown up into his lap, there are still tears in his eyes and chunks in his nose, his head feels light enough to float away, but he holds this boy's hand and says it's okay, Noya, it's okay, and he laughs. It doesn't even hurt that much, I'm really strong. Which is a lie, it hurts more than anything, and holding Noya's hand is as much for his own sake as it is his friend's.

He can feel Noya's skin give under his claws, is sure that his hands will come away bloodied, but it keeps the both of them grounded. And that's funny, considering how grounded is the last thing Hinata wants to be. He just wanted to fly, the way his mother can, the way Noya can. So when no adults were around he had explained his plan to Noya, and Noya had said that he would wait outside Hinata's fourth story window and catch him if he fell.

Only he didn't.

Hinata's wings had caught barely enough air to break his fall and Noya had stood there, unable or unwilling to throw out his arms and now too scared to do anything but cry. His little fist rubs at his eyes, his wings hitch upwards with his shoulders. And Hinata laughs, because it's all he can do. They'll have to wait a while before they hear running footsteps on hard concrete, before his mother arrives and asks what's going on in that terrified voice adults use when they don't want you to know that they're scared. But not long enough for Noya to stop crying or Hinata to stop laughing. And later, alone at the hospital, Hinata will look at his leg, thinking of that one eternal moment at the peak of his jump, where everything was still and he was the most powerful thing that existed, and he'll think that maybe it was almost worth it.

 

~*~

 

 

Hinata is sixteen years old, clinging to the last remnants of a dream he was having, about shapes turning into other shapes and then turning into landscapes. Something is tickling his face as he sleeps and he absently tries to brush it away.

The tickling gets more insistent, more like poking. Hinata groans and opens his eyes to see a boy baring sharp teeth, lying on his side and looking Hinata straight in the eye. “Hey sleepyhead,” the boy says.

Hinata yelps, trying to brandish his claws and push himself away at the same time. He ends up hitting himself in the face with the back of his hand instead, which pushes him backwards far enough that he falls out of bed. He hears a very familiar, grating cackle.

“Noya!” he shouts from the floor, next to a box of shoes and the remnants of his dignity. “What the _fuck?”_

He just barely hears his mother yell “Shouyou, language!” over Noya's howls. He lies in Hinata's bed – a circular thing dipped in the middle to make space for his wings - with bright eyes crinkled with laughter. Hinata groans. He's a morning person, Wingbacks tend to be, but not to the same infuriating extent as Noya is. Hinata takes a while to relearn his chipper personality after he gets up, whereas Noya seems to launch himself into the waking world like it's a challenge.

It's only Monday. Tomorrow will be Tuesday and Noya will do this again, or at least something similarly obnoxious, and then Wednesday follows and Thursday after that, all the way up to Sunday, and then the week will loop back round and it'll all happen again.

“You're so vulgar, Shouyou!” Noya wheezes through laboured breaths.

“I'll fight you.”

“Sure.”

“I'll fight you and I'll win and I'll turn your wings into a deckchair.” Hinata pops his head over the side of the bed, staring angrily at Noya while he calms down.

“You wouldn't win.”

“I would!” No he wouldn't. “I'm dangerous!” Haha, sure. Hinata is weaker than your average Wingback, and Wingback's are not a physically strong species as it is. He'd still try, though, just to wipe that stupid look off Noya's face.

“Okay, whatever mister danger.” Noya gestures to Hinata's closet. “Get changed, we're gonna be late to Tanaka's.”

Natsu chooses this moment to patter into Hinata's room, take in the scene, waddle over to Hinata and then use her tiny hand to slap his leg. “You are being loud, Hinata,” she says sternly. She calls him Hinata, which he thinks she got from TV because when he asked she said she was introducing formality into the workplace. Natsu is a weird kid.

“It's Noya's fault,” Hinata replies sullenly. Natsu wordlessly squeals at him. He tries to say “now you're being loud,” but every time he opens his mouth Natsu just starts squealing again. Noya laughs from his position on the bed like an asshole.

“Natsu! Leave, I need to get changed!” he shouts over her noise. Natsu slaps his leg again and Hinata pushes her out the room with his foot, closing the door after her. He breathes a sigh of relief . It's the same variation on the same noisy theme every school day morning. Just once he'd like to be taken by surprise.

He drags himself to his closet, a squat, wooden thing which matches nothing else in the room, the same way nothing matches anything in his room. The function, they work, it's not their job to be beautiful. He picks out a uniform shirt, modified to be backless except for the bottom third, making way for the massive wings which erupt from his shoulders. He sticks his arms through the holes, buttons it up from bottom to top, and clips the collar around his neck. Noya wears something similar, although his is unbuttoned and reveals a t-shirt underneath, also backless, with the words _very tender_ printed in jokerman across the front. Which is great, because it's stupid, just like Noya is.

Hinata's wings are black and taller than he is. They function, they work. He doesn't think of them as beautiful.

“Noya...” he says as he stands awkwardly with a pair of boxers in his hand. Noya has flipped himself onto his front, head propped up by his hands. His legs swing innocently in the air, like some blushing, dickhead schoolgirl.

“Yes?”

“Turn around!”

“But it's such a nice view.”

“Ew!” Hinata screeches. “Noya, no!”

Noya places the palm of his hand on his chest and does his best to look hurt. “Babe...”

Hinata gags. They've been friends since Hinata was seven and Noya was eight, and even before they were raised side by side in the same commune. Noya is _family_ to Hinata, in a deep metaphorical way and also maybe literally, he forgets how everyone is related, and he's making this weird.

“Turn around!” he repeats. “I'm not getting changed with you staring at my...” Hinata makes a vague hand motion in the air. “Things.”

Noya raises an eyebrow but does as he's told. “We used to bathe together when we were little, you know. It's nothing I've never seen before.”

“Well I'm bigger now.”

“Oh, really?”

Hinata grimaces as he steps into his boxers and then his trousers. “You're so weird. You can turn around now, by the way.”

“Great,” Noya says, hopping off the bed. “Can we go now? Saeko's gonna be mad if we're late.”

Hinata pulls a face before flashing a smile and dashing for the door. He hears his mother yelp and a faint shout of “I'm not racing you” behind him, but he pretends not to hear.

Because really it doesn't matter. When he's running, when he shoots out his flat and past the broken elevator, when he jumps the last five steps, opening his wings slightly to break his fall, when he feels the day spill out onto his neck as he leaves the building, that's when it's easiest not to think. There's no Monday when you're running, there's no school. There is you, there is your feet, there is the sound of rushing air and the sound of blood in your ears, the perfect knowledge of being alive.

There's the different greys of the pavement, and above him there's birds singing a requiem for the morning. There's the hulking stature of a stranger in front of him, and the undignified sound which comes out of Hinata's mouth. There's Hinata, opening his wings as far as they will go just a tad too late, and there's his forehead meeting a rock solid chest. There's the different greys of the pavement again, much closer this time, and there's the quickly forming lump above his eyebrow.

There's the stranger, silhouetted against the sky like ink on paper, the sun haloing their head.

Hinata gets up, bows and stammers an apology, taking off before the stranger can say a word. He runs the last few metres to the Tanaka's building, praying he's not being chased by an angry pedestrian. When he reaches the door, pressing the button labelled _Tanaka_ in spiky, unflinching characters, he turns his head surreptitiously to check behind him.

The stranger is staring. Hinata swallows hard and quickly turns back to the door in front of him.

“Shouyou!” Hinata's head snaps back to his commune only a hundred or so metres away, where Noya is waddling towards him with two bags slung around his shoulders. The stranger perks up like they've been forced out a dream, breaking the stare so quickly Hinata doesn't get a chance to see their face. They hurry quickly past Noya.

In front of him the door opens and Tanaka Ryuu blinks sleepily down at him, slightly out of sync, so that his left eye closes before the right.

“Hey, Hinata,” he says, yawning. “How's it going?”

Hinata beams at him. “I win.”

Tanaka blinks once and turns to shuffle sleepily back to his flat, ignoring him.

“Tanaka!” Hinata shouts, following him in. “I won!”

“I don't care.”

“You're so mean!”

“You're so loud.”

Hinata raises his middle fingers at Tanaka's back as he goes through the door. From behind, he hears Noya's footsteps, heavier than they should be with the boots he wears, and he whirls around. He points the same fingers he used against Tanaka's back at Noya's chest. “I win!”

Noya rolls his eyes and shoves Hinata's satchel at his chest before pushing past him.

“Wow, someone's jealous.”

“We weren't even racing,” Noya says, like he's said it a hundred times before. Which he has.

Hinata pokes out his tongue as he takes off his shoes. “I'm so much faster than you and you're jealous.” He sing-songs the last word.

Noya makes a _pfft_ sound with his lips. “Well you forgot your satchel, so that's like a five second handicap. And your breakfast, so that's another ten seconds. Your bento, which is in your bag by the way, the bag which your loving senpai retrieved for you, so that's another ten. Also, you're dumb, so that's a minute. Ergo and therefore, I win.”

Hinata groans. “You're so jealous! Stop being jealous for, like, one second.”

“Ryuu!” Noya shouts, ignoring Hinata and powering through the hallway into Tanaka's apartment. He stands pulling on his uniform in the living room, a standard one due to his standard body shape, and groans at Noya's bright eyes and grin.

“Fuck off, Noya, it's too early.”

“I'm just asking if Saeko's ready yet.”

“Nah, she's getting changed.” He hauls himself to the small table shoved against the wall, his back to the entrance. He rests his head on the surface. “Take a seat, I'm gonna nap for a bit.”

“The morning is for being conscious,” Noya sings. “I should draw dicks on your face.”

“Try it and I'll fucking eviscerate you.”

Noya cackles, settling into the seat at the head of the table and scrolling through his phone. The morning is warm, inviting. It feels like a helping hand, ushering something in, a time of day that bursts with possibilities. Birdsong wafts through the open windows of the flat. Tanaka begins to snore lightly. Hinata decides to go bother Saeko, leaving the room and traversing the narrow hallway to her room. He knocks on the door and doesn't wait for an answer before opening it.

Saeko stands directly in front of him with her hand stretching out for a doorknob that isn't there anymore, a look of surprise on her face. She wears her Seiyu uniform under a leather jacket and then she grins, a face that makes Hinata think of how similar she looks to her brother, same dark skin tone, same muscular frame, same sharp smile.

“Hey, kid,” she says, dropping her hand.

“Hey, Saeko,” Hinata replies brightly. He's about to say something else when he hears a crash from the living room followed by complete silence. She closes her eyes and takes a very deep breath.

“Do you think they killed each other?” Hinata asks, a touch too serious.

“I fucking hope so,” she replies. She sucks in a lungful of air and Hinata barely has time to cover his ears. “Kids!” She bellows. “Get your asses to the car right now and I swear if anything's broken I'll eat your damn brains!” She pushes past Hinata. “That goes for you too, shrimp.”

Hinata balks. “I didn't break anything!”

“Well get out of here before you get the chance to, then.”

He grimaces, sticking his tongue out at Saeko's back as she retreats down the hall. He watches her chase Noya and Tanaka out of the flat and follows them, clambering into the back seat of Saeko's tiny silver car with Noya. He utters a soft prayer under his breath.

Tanaka Saeko drives like the apocalypse. It's an exercise in powerlessness; she rides her pale horse and drags Hinata's limp and terrified body behind her as she hollers and whoops, Noya crowing along with her and Tanaka trying to sleep against the window. It's been like this since the last year of middle school, when Noya had met Tanaka at Kurasuno and Saeko had offered to give them a lift on her way to work. That time, he'd left the car shaking and close to tears, walking the last few hundred metres to his school with jelly legs and a churning stomach. Now, though, he barely feels queasy, and he doesn't even need to grip Noya's hand that much, unless they go on two wheels, which happens more than Hinata thinks is really necessary.

But they've not died yet, and it cuts a twenty minute walk into a five minute ride, so Hinata is, if not willing, then prepared to take the risk. Even so, he leaves the car thankful to be breathing, suppresses the urge to kiss the ground.

Saeko drives away with a squeal of her tyres. There's a slow trickle of students making their way through the gates to the classroom building. The sky is cloudless.

It's a new day.

 

~*~

 

Nothing changes. One lesson, then the next, then break, then another lesson, on and on. Hinata manages to keep himself going by staring at the clock on the wall, counting the seconds go by and imagining all the homework he's going to neglect in favour of playing video games with Kenma online, or maybe being forced into one of Natsu's weird games and listening to her tell him about how she _nearly_ flew today, it must have been _ten_ metres, maybe even _twenty_.

So when the last bell finally rings he immediately breathes a sigh so loud a few students in nearby seats turn to look at him. He closes his underused notebook and stuffs it in his bag. The makeshift violin of his chair being pushed back joins the symphony of relief, of babble and sighs and groans and coughs, which fills the room as thirty-something students make their escape. He pulls his right arm and wing through the loop of his satchel as he hurries out the door, practically running to the gate, where Noya stands waiting for him, tapping something into his phone.

“You're early,” Hinata comments. “Where's Tanaka?”

Noya looks up and grimaces. “He got detention. Didn't seem any point in hanging around.”

“What did he do?”

“He failed a test and told the teacher it was her fault for teaching English,” He shrugs. “I dunno, Ryuu stuff.”

“Dumb stuff,” Hinata says as he prances past the gate. “He's so dumb. Why is he so dumb, Noya?”

“Because he's a human.”

Hinata makes an explosive, mirthful sound. “Noya! That's, like, racist or something.”

“No it's not, if it was racist I would have said shit about him being black or about how all lives matter, which would be fucking despicable. I'm just saying he's a human and humans are weird.”

Noya's voice falters towards the end of his speech, like he can't quite be bothered. There are stress lines around his eyes and his voice lacks the melodic quality it usually has. Not that Hinata really takes too much notice as he bounces along the path to their commune, taking it into account and then pushing it to the back of his mind. Sometimes Noya is like this, that's just how it is. They lapse into a semi-comfortable silence, Noya returning to his phone, frowning and tapping quickly as Hinata turns his head to find the source of every bright colour or loud sound they pass. He makes little ooh noises under his breath every so often and asks Noya questions about his day which only get grunts in response.

Usually they have Tanaka with them, shouting obnoxious things and giving Noya piggy backs, but even with just the two of them there should be more energy than this. Noya won't stop staring at that little square of light in his palm. The line between his eyebrows gets deeper and deeper with every passing step. It's kind of annoying.

“Noya, are you okay?” Hinata finally asks, unable to ignore the weight of silence any longer. “Who are you emailing so much?”

“What?” Noya says, like he's been pulled out of a daze. “Yeah. No one.”

“You've been on your phone like the whole walk home.”

“It's nothing, don't worry about it.”

“I'm not worrying,” Hinata huffs, crossing his arms. “I want you to talk to me.” Silence. Hinata waves his arm in front of Noya's face. “Are you listening?”

“Yeah,” Noya breathes. His expression twists into puzzlement. “Actually, no, sorry. What did you say?”

“Ugh, nothing, whatever.”

Noya returns to his phone. A few more minutes pass. Just when Hinata decides to ask who he's talking to again, Noya opens his mouth.

“Listen, Shouyou, I got to go somewhere.”

Hinata pauses in the street. “Where?”

“Friend's house,” Noya says without making eye contact. Hianta's face turns from bewilderment to wicked grin in a heartbeat.

“Asahi's?”

“None of your business.”

“It is, though, isn't it?” Noya flips a middle finger at him. Hinata laughs. “Are you gonna ask him out? Was that who you were emailing? Is that why you're so...” He waves a hand in Noya's direction. “This?”

Noya punches him. Hinata howls.

“What was that for?”

“For being an ass.”

“Why an ass, Noya?” Hinata hisses. “You got someone's ass on your mind? Asssssahi maybe?” Noya punches him again as Hinata cackles.

“It's not funny,” Noya says, forcing down a smirk.

“Then why are you smiling?”

Noya rolls his eyes and doesn't answer. Instead, he checks for cars and steps into the middle of the road. Hinata shouts a last “Good luck!” and then Noya is running, opening his wings and flapping furiously, taking off into the sky.

Hinata likes to watch Noya fly. He's kind of amazing. He has an easy grace, an acrobatic athleticism which colours all his movements. And his wings, when they catch the light, shine dappled grey and gold, like something precious. He feels proud for some reason, watching Noya fly. Jealous too. He twists and turns so easily, so casually, like he was never meant to set foot on the ground. But Hinata is faster, he twists and turns quicker, if not so cleanly, and that counts for just as much.

He's about to set off running himself and fly home when he catches sight of a figure in the corner of his eye, standing stock still at the mouth of a sidestreet. He turns his head involuntarily, turns back, and then double takes when he realises that the stranger is glaring at him, really glaring. Hinata shrinks back a little. A little voice in him tells him to run, but it only takes a second of frozen panic, rabbit in headlights style, before the stranger's eyes widen and then drop to the ground.

Their arms are folded tight against their chest, covered in long sleeves. They wear a scarf despite the heat. Hinata can feel the weight of their attention despite the way they broke eye contact. And he ignores that little voice, covers metaphorical ears and hums, because suddenly Hinata wants to know.

“Can I help you?” he calls to the stranger. No answer. Hinata bristles. “Hey!” he calls, louder than necessary. “Are you okay?”

Silence, again. Hinata blows a puff of air from his mouth and takes several swift steps towards the stranger.

“I'm fine,” they snap, curtly, still not making eye contact.

“Well you don't _look_ fine,” Hinata replies. How rude, honestly. “You look angry.”

That gets the stranger glaring again, and Hinata takes a step backwards, gulping down a lump of fear. The voice picks up again, and again Hinata ignores it and waits.

“You hit me,” the stranger says, finally.

“What?”

“Today. You ran into me.”

Hinata gapes. “It's you!” he shouts, pointing. The stranger grimaces and steps further back into the sidestreet, into the shadow. “I'm really sorry about that. You weren't hurt, right? I mean, you're all tall and sturdy and stuff, so you probably weren't.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” the stranger growls. Hinata takes another couple of steps back.

“Nothing! Sorry!” he squeaks, pushing his hands out in a panicked, placating gesture. “Everyone's sturdy to a Wingback! No comment on you, I promise.”

“You're a Wingback,” they say, softer this time, a handsbreadth from vulnerable. Hinata giggles and flaps the wings on his back slightly to make a point.

“Uh, yeah, obviously. Have you never met a Wingback before?”

“Of course I have,” the stranger seethes. “Just not... properly.”

“Properly?”

“Go away.”

“How do you not meet a species properly?”

“Why do you even want to know?”

“Because I do!”

“Wow, great reason, dumbass.”

“Are you not from Edo, then? Are you foreign? I mean you speak good Japanese but -”

“I'm not foreign, you dumbass.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Stop being a dumbass!”

They stand face to face, Hinata with his head bent back to stare the stranger in the eye. Their voices have risen to shouts which echo down the sidestreet. In the momentary quiet their breathing is heavy and angry. Hinata suddenly perks up.

“Oooohhh,” he says, wagging a finger in the stranger's direction. “So are you one of those, like, super sheltered humans that -”

“I am _not_ a human,” the stranger roars, looming over Hinata. Hinata makes a sound he's not proud of.

“Okay!” he yelps. “Not human, got it!”

There's a tense silence where the stranger breathes through flared nostrils, towering over Hinata and blocking out the sun. Their fisted hands sport white knuckles. The stranger takes another aborted step towards him and Hinata staggers back, then trips and falls. He whimpers, in pain and in terror.

The stranger glares down at him with naked contempt. And then they close their eyes, take a very deep breath, and step back, forcing themself to lean against the wall. Hinata lets go of a held breath.

“Please go away,” the stranger says, quietly. And Hinata would, he should, but now the stranger is wearing an expression he can't quite place, lonely and childish and something else, and it keeps him rooted to the spot.

“I'm foreign,” he all but whispers. “Kind of. My dad is Filipino. I was born in the Philipines.”

The stranger closes their eyes again and doesn't reply. Hinata powers on.

“My mum is Japanese, though, and I was raised here.” Nothing. Silence. “So I guess you're a psychic if you're not human? I mean, you don't really look that different from a human.” The stranger's face scrunches. “Ah, no offence! I mean, you don't have wings or, like, holes or anything.”

He waits. Then he speaks again. “So what kind of psychic are you?”

“Go. Away.”

“I know some psychics. They're friends with my friends.”

“Why are you still here?”

Hinata makes a frustrated sound at the back of his throat. He gets up from the ground, brushing the gravel off his legs and backside. “I'm just trying to make conversation,” he says, petulant. “What's so bad about humans anyway?”

The stranger looks at him like he's swallowed his own head. Then their eyebrows cave back into the centre of their forehead and their glare is back in full force. “Leave,” they say.

“No.”

“Leave!” the stranger repeats.

“Make me,” Hinata fires back.

There's a crystallizing moment where neither of them move, both staring straight at each other with challenge etched into the lines of their faces. And then the stranger makes a grab at Hinata's head. Hinata ducks. “Wow, you're slow.” They try again and Hinata dodges again. “You're really slow, oh my God.” They growl, feint another grab with their right hand and punch Hinata's arm with their left, near the shoulder. Hinata screams. The stranger's eyes go wide and scared.

Their mouth hangs open as Hinata stumbles, clutching his arm and cursing. His face has collapsed in pain and there are tears in his eyes. The stranger takes a few steps back, right hand coming to clutch at their scarf, their face, for once, unlined by anger and instead blanketed in fear.

“I didn't mean to hurt you,” they whisper, shocked.

“You could have broken my arm!”

“I didn't punch that hard.” Their voice is a strange mix of incredulity and terror.

“We have hollow bones, you idiot! And how was that not a hard punch?”

They look down at their shoes and mumble something.

“What?”

“Sorry, I said.”

“Ugh, whatever.” Hinata rolls his shoulder, wincing slightly, feathers ruffled. “Fine, I'll leave you alone.”

The stranger says nothing. Hinata grits his teeth.

“I'm really going now.”

The stranger nods. “Okay.” Soft and brittle and cold.

Hinata really, truly can't remember a time he's been so angry. And yet, despite himself, he finds himself hanging back, narrowed eyes directed at the stranger's profile. Their eyebrows are set in sharp slashes sloping down their forehead, mouth a thin, carefully drawn line above their chin. Their face is hard and unmoving, like someone pushed a scowl into wet concrete and let it dry. They look like a child sent for a time out, or a date stood up in the rain, or so many things which aren't what they are.

They peek up at him through their fringe, short and black and hanging over their eyes. Hinata bristles and takes off running. He unfurls his wings and flaps, feeling the ground divorce itself from his feet. He takes one last look down, spares one last glance for the stranger who stands, arms folded, watching Hinata fly.

 

~*~

 

Suga has whispers. Nothing distinct, only a background noise to his life, but always there. They don't scare him, especially not with how long they've been knocking around in his head. They can even be comforting. At night he listens to them ebb, lets indistinct voices lullaby him to sleep. It sounds a lot more creepy than it actually is.

Suga has a shovel. He's digging out weeds which have managed to worm their way through the dirt near the graves. Once in a while he takes a break to wipe the sweat from his brow and crick his back into place. That's part of the job he hates. He's barely nineteen, he shouldn't be hearing his joints the way he does. It's easy, though, at least for Suga, and it's not like he has anything else to do. And besides, he likes working in the cemetery. It's peaceful, especially when he doesn't have to be around his co-workers. It's an odd kind of quiet that you can't find anywhere else, passive and lingering, sticking to his clothes long after he leaves. He carries this quiet home with him, lets it drip from his body and collect in the corners of his home. When he visits his dads, he brings the quiet with him too, lets it seep into the fabric of their furniture as he sips his tea and listens to their stories. It's an old kind of quiet, a powerless kind of quiet, one that he not so much revels in as accepts with open arms.

This is a good job, he reminds himself. He travels the path of least resistance. There's nothing harder to resist than death, Suga knows that for a fact.

Suga has eyes. He can see the man who's walked past him four times already coming back for his fifth. He's cute, strong and sturdy looking, and Suga may be taking the opportunity to bend over as far as he can when he passes - which probably does nothing for his back but does wonders for his ego. Its fun. It's made more fun by the little things Suga throws in, lifting his shirt to dab at his forehead and attempting to flex as he digs up weeds.

He'll take a break when this is done, maybe get a chance to really talk to the man. But for now this performance is the perfect way to break the tedium, a little respite from manual labour. He's thinking up icebreakers when he hears a soft cough from behind him. “Excuse me,” and wow that voice is nice. Higher than he expected, but smooth and careful.

Suga has a smile, perfect straight teeth to die for. “How can I help?”

“Ah, yes,” the man says, blushing slightly, making as little eye contact as possible. “I don't mean to disturb you, but uh... there's some mud on the seat of your trousers and... you know... you might want to get rid of it. If you want.”

Suga's smile freezes. He blinks once, slowly. Amazing. Genuinely incredible.

“Its nothing to get embarrassed about!” the man carries on, lifting his hands and smiling apologetically, as if he has anything to apologise for. “I just thought you might want to know.”

Suga sighs. “I thought I was giving you a show.”

The man's eyes bulge and a furious blush colonises his face, turning dark brown to a shade of red. That brings Suga's smile back.

“I wasn't aiming for comedy, though.”

“No, not comedy!” the man blurts out. “Not at all.” He scratches at his eyebrow and attempts a smile. “Well, maybe a little, but it was secondary to the, um, main event.”

Suga snorts. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I'm trying.”

“Good,” Suga says, moving to lean on his shovel. “Because I'm definitely flirting with you.” The man's shoulders relax.

“I'm Sawamura Daichi,” he says, holding out his hand and smiling. “It's nice to meet you.”

“It's lovely to meet you too, Sawamura,” says Suga, taking Daichi's hand. “I'm Sugawara Koushi. My friends call me Suga.” Suga pauses for a second before he adds, “you can too, if you like.”

“Suga,” the man repeats. He lets go of his hand. “So... Hello Suga.”

Suga's eyebrows twitch. “Hello Sawamura.” He doesn't say anything else. Better to make them work for it.

“You... look nice today.”

Suga smiles. “Well I do try. I hear there's a former Vogue Japan editor buried here and I'd like to make a good impression for the next life.” Daichi chuckles, deep from his throat. He's adorable. “So do you come here often,” Suga asks before he can stop himself. His breath catches as he berates himself for finding possibly the worst combination of words to say to anybody in a graveyard, but the whispers don't change when Daichi is close, so Suga doubts he's in morning.

Daichi's smile widens, to Suga's eternal relief. “No, actually.” He gestures vaguely to the second, smaller gate near the back end of the cemetery. “I started a new job a couple of days ago. Google maps told me this was a shortcut home, so here I am.”

“Here you are. And here you've been for the past fifteen minutes if I'm not mistaken.” Suga leans forward on his shovel. “Did you get lost, or did something distract you?”

“Oh, you know,” Daichi says breathily as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “It's a nice day. Good to stretch the legs and all.”

“Stretch the legs?”

“Yeah. Get a good workout.”

_I'll give you a good workout_ Suga thinks, and almost says out loud just to see Daichi's face. But talking to this man really is nice. There's a tentative familiarity that Suga's not used to, an easiness he enjoys.

“And how are you finding your workout?” Suga asks instead, congratulating himself on his self control.

“It's a nice view.”

Suga laughs, a noise like bells. He cocks his head, listening to the way the whispers ebb.

“Sawamura Daichi. You're a human, aren't you?”

His eyebrows shoot upwards. “Um, yeah. And you – you're a monster?”

“I suppose you could say that, yes,” Suga replies, grinning.

“Oh. Some of my co-workers are monsters.”

Suga's face doesn't change but his smile gets colder. “Congratulations.” To his credit, Daichi has the self awareness to look sheepish.

“Sorry. That was really... Sorry.” He takes a deep breath. “Did you know that you're kind of intimidating to talk to?”

“Hmm.”

“I'm not used to people as pretty as you are. I get all tongue-tied.”

“Bit more than tongue-tied.”

Daichi flinches, and Suga feels bad despite himself. “Yeah.”

It takes a moment for Suga to decide to have pity. He smiles beatifically. “So I'm pretty?”

Daichi nods enthusiastically. “Very.”

Suga nods. “Go on.”

“You're... very... nice looking.”

“Amazing.”

Daichi flushes again. “I'm not good with this.”

“I think you're doing just fine.” Daichi looks sheepish again. It's nice this time.

“So you work here?” he asks.

“No, there's some great loot in some of these graves.”

Daichi chuckles once more. Then he pauses. “You are joking, right?” Suga rolls his eyes.

“Yes, Sawamura, I'm joking.”

“Oh, good. I didn't want to ask a graverobber for their email.”

Suga smiles so wide his eyes turn to slits. He holds out his hand. “Phone please.” Daichi roots around in his backpack until he finds it, unlocks it and hands it to Suga.

He punches in his details, his email, his phone number, his best attributes (it's his everything) and gives it back to Daichi with a flick of his wrist. Daichi immediately presses the call button, lets it ring once, and then hangs up. “There,” he says. “Now you have my number.”

Suga checks his phone, where an unknown missed call is his first notification. “Great,” he says. “You should call me again sometime.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I will.” Daichi says it like he can't quite believe his luck. Suga's smile gets warmer.

“Now if you don't mind,” Suga says loudly, standing away from his shovel and wincing at the sound that comes from his back. “I have a job to get back to and a pants situation to take care of.”

“Right.” Daichi steps slowly backwards, maintaining eye contact with Suga, a lop-sided, hopeful smile on his face. “Right, yeah. I'll email you.”

“You better.”

“I will. I'd be a fool not to.”

“You really would. Now go! There's only so long I can stand with my back away from you.”

Daichi laughs, turning to walk down the path and out the main gates of the cemetery with a definite bounce in his step. Suga fights the smile on his face, although for what reason he's not sure. He looks up at the sky, cloudless.

Suga has his number.

 

~*~

 

It's a strange situation. Noya stands, bewildered, over the sleeping body of a teenager. And as Noya stands, Hinata shifts his weight from one foot to the other, making chirp-like whining sounds. He looks torn between walking away and waking the stranger, head turning between their body on the ground and the street leading home, dancing his frantic little dance with a pained expression on his face. It's ridiculous, almost cute if it weren't for the sense of wrong that travels up Noya's skin, and he wishes he had Asahi here to make eye contact with over Hinata's head.

Noya scrunches his face. Asahi. That's a train of thought best left alone for now.

Hinata hadn't remembered to question him this morning, Noya had distracted him with inane conversation about their neighbours. He had almost left him to go home alone this afternoon, too, absolutely unwilling to face Hinata if he started asking about his visit to Asahi's. He shouldn't have worried. Barely two steps out the gate (leaving Tanaka behind for his second day of detention) and Hinata had yelped so loudly it was all Noya could do not to open his wings and take off right there. Frazzled, he watched as Hinata jogged along the school wall and came to a stop by this sleeping figure, their arms folded over their stomach, their chest rising and falling in slow breaths.

Something about it all set Noya on edge. Some instinct in him told him to leave it alone. And that's what he says to Hinata.

“But I know him!” Hinata warbles, after making a weird keening sound with his throat. The stranger's eyebrows raise very slightly. “I met him yesterday when you left. He's an ass.”

Noya clucks his tongue, his temper short. His fuse isn't particularly long to begin with, but he's aware how much easier it is to set him off since yesterday. Not that he cares right now.

“So let's go, how is this our problem?”

All Hinata does in reply is whine and keep dancing. There are students throwing them weird glances as they walk past, and some giant lanky Wall kid with glasses manages to catch Noya's eye with such a condescending look that for a second he forgets about the stranger and burns for a fight.

“Let's wake him up,” Hinata says. Noya groans.

“No, Shouyou. Come on, I'm going home.”

“He's gonna get hurt.”

“Who cares? His fault for falling asleep in the dumbest place possible.”

“Stop calling me that.” Hinata and Noya both jump about a foot in the air, involuntarily opening their wings slightly. The stranger still hasn't opened their eyes. Their frown has deepened.

“He's awake!” Hinata practically screams, pointing an accusing finger at the stranger. “Why didn't you tell me!”

“Of course I'm awake, who could stay asleep with all your noise?” they say, angry eyes finally opening and finding Hinata. “And I said stop calling me that!”

“Stop calling you what?”

The stranger breaks eye contact and grimaces. “He,” they say.

Hinata stills. “Oh. Sorry.” The stranger closes their eyes again, seemingly done with the conversation.

Noya bows. “Okay, sorry about that. Time to go, Shouyou.”

If Noya had hoped that the sudden awkwardness of the situation would force Hinata to leave, he would be wrong. Hinata waves Noyas hands away, still looking at the stranger with a troubled expression. But he looks at them with something else too, a kind of hunger. Something which flattens the colour of his eyes. And Noya knows that he won't leave, not anytime soon, because Hinata has latched onto some mystery, some secret, and now he wants to _know._ This is absurd. There are some things best left alone.

He just cant understand not getting his way, Noya thinks. What a pain. What a child.

“I'm sorry about yesterday,” Hinata says in a softer voice than usual. “For annoying you and stuff. What's your name?”

The stranger says nothing.

“Okay, well I guess you don't have to tell me or anything. I'm Hinata Shouyou, by the way.” Pause. “Are you... okay?”

“Fine,” the stranger says. There's quiet for a beat before they add, almost like an afterthought, “thank you.”

Hinata glances in Noya's direction, like he's just remembered that he's there. “This is my friend Noya. Nishinoya Yuu, actually, but you can call him Noya,” he says, gesturing sideways after several uncomfortable beats of silence. “Noya, this, uh, person is a psychic too. Just like -” Hinata's face lights up. “Just like Asahi!”

The stranger's mouth twitches downwards at the corner. Their frown goes softer at the edges and harder in the middle as Noya closes his eyes for a long moment and ignores the twisting, empty feeling in his gut. “Great,” he says, monotone.

The stranger continues to say nothing.

Hinata groans. “Why won't you talk?” he whines.

The stranger keeps their eyes closed. “Why are you so interested in me?”

“I dunno? You're interesting?”

“Leave me alone.”

“How come you're sleeping outside the school?”

They finally open their eyelids to shoot a glare at Hinata. Noya feels his shoulders tense and his hands ball into fists. Hinata only huffs. “None of your business,” they hiss through gritted teeth.

“Shouyou,” Noya says, voice low as he watches the stranger.

Hinata ignores him. “Tell me.”

The stranger stands up, a murderous expression on their face. Noya swallows something down as he takes in their height. Not fear.

“You want me to hit you again?” The stranger says, dangerously.

Noya's eyes flash with anger and he takes a step forward. So what if he's tall, so what if he's strong and psychic and angry. He hurt Shouyou, he'll hurt him again, and Noya is raring for a fight.

Hinata, meanwhile, takes a step back, but not before grabbing Noya's shirt and pulling him back with him. “You won't do that,” he says, his voice more confident than his actions.

“And how the fuck would you know that?” they say.

“You don't hurt people for no reason.”

“I hurt you yesterday!” they shout.

“Because I was being annoying!” Hinata shouts right back. “Besides, you didn't mean to hurt me, not properly. You looked all...” Hinata makes a mockingly shocked face.

“No I didn't.”

“Like you saw a ghost!”

“Maybe I had a stomach ache!” they yell. Hinata blinks and lets go of Noya. Then he bursts out laughing.

“What?” they murmur, caught off guard. Noya keeps himself between Hinata and the stranger. “Why are you laughing?”

“You're weird,” Hinata says, smiling brightly. “Are you hungry? Do you want some of my bento? I have some left over from lunch.” Hinata is already rooting around in his satchel.

“I'm not weird,” the stranger mumbles. They cross their arms and look away. “And I don't want your food.”

“Come _on._ Yes you do,” Hinata waggles a hastily rewrapped bento teasingly in front of them. “I won't even charge you!”

“Why would you charge me?”

Hinata laughs again. “You're so weird. Its a joke. Take some.”

“Shouyou,” Noya whispers. “What are you doing?”

The stranger looks down at the bento with an odd look on their face. Hinata swings it from side to side.

“What, do you eat with your eyes or soemthing?”

“Shouyou.”

The stranger flicks their eyes between the bento, Hinata and – once - Noya. The frown is still there, but it's softer, makes them look younger, and Noya begins to wonder if the frown is as much a part of their face as their nose. They swallow, raising their arm slowly, and then snatching the box away from him in one swift movement. Hinata lets out a squeal of delight.

“I'm not thanking you,” they say as they untie the wrapping. Hinata lets out a puff of air.

“Ugh, whatever, you're so dumb. Just eat.”

“I'm not dumb.”

“Are too.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Hinata.” Noya's voice is cold and angry, although with whom he's not sure. Hinata finally looks away from the stranger. A wide open look on his face. Maybe he'd feel better about this if it weren't for what happened yesterday, but here is some psychic who hurt his friend, and here is his friend ignoring him, and he's angry. And Noya wants to say more, wants to articulate this sick feeling in his sternum, but he can't think of the words, or maybe they don't exist. It's everything and he's tired.

“I'm going home,” he says eventually, because it's all he can manage.

“Are you okay?” Hinata asks, cocking his head, puzzled.

Noya ignores him. He needs to go home, he needs to have a shower and calm down and not think about anything, especially not Hinata and _especially_ not Asahi. He needs to curl up in his bed and not move, not think, pretend for a while that he isn't. Quickly, making sure he has enough space, Noya runs three long steps and opens out his wings, flapping them hard until he's airborne. Hinata and the stranger get smaller and smaller as he rises, problems turning to ants. The air is cold. Noya feels like crying.

 

~*~

 

“You're doing it wrong.”

“No I'm not.”

“You are. You're meant to jump and attack at the same time.”

“I know how to play my own game, Kuro.”

“So do I, I played it twice before you did.”

“You stole it from me.”

“You weren't using it.”

Kenma sighs. He does a lot of that - sighing. Kuro drapes himself across the desk in front of Kenma, and he sighs again. “Can't you go annoy Yaku?” he asks, trying to focus on his game.

“No,” says Yaku, from the desk to Kenma's right. Kuro grins.

Nekoma is a school located right in the middle of Edo's more human district, full of human students. Yaku sticks out like a sore thumb with his huge, brown wings and black claws, and Kenma wonders if that's the reason he chooses to stay behind in the homeroom classroom with himself and Kuro. Kenma takes a peek to his right, where Yaku is whacking Kuro's feet and telling him to sit like a person. Or maybe Kenma has been projecting and Yaku only stays so that Kuro doesn't somehow kill himself. It's not like he's the only monster in the school, not even the only Wingback, and he makes friends easily enough. Unlike Kenma, who stays because he doesn't like the crowd. Unlike Kuro, too, who only stays because Kenma stays – although Kuro's friendlessness seems to be the result of choice rather than crippling anxiety.

The door slides open, distracting Kenma from his game. One of his classmates stands frowning in the doorway.

“You're not supposed to be here,” she says, crossing her arms. Kuro looks up at her and smiles.

“How come you're here then?” he asks. Kenma pauses his game but keeps his eyes on the screen.

“I forgot my textbook, what's your excuse?”

“I like it here.”

She scoffs, gives Kuro a dirty look. “I could just tell a teacher you're in here, then you'd get kicked out.”

“Why would you do that?”

“To teach you a lesson.”

“A lesson in how you hate monsters?” Kuro asks lightly. The student splutters, outraged.

“I don't hate monsters! How dare you!”

Kuro smiles a savage smile. Kenma freezes as he feels a weight settle onto his chest. “What are you, then? Are you scared of us?”

The student's eyes widen. Her throat bobs up and down as she swallows. “No!” she says, her voice cracking. The weight gets heavier. Kuro stands and the student makes a tiny 'eep' sound.

“You look scared to me. Like an honest to God monsterphobe.” The student sweats, on the verge of tears. Yaku hisses at Kuro, who ignores him.

Without another word the student turns tail and runs. She doesn't pick up her textbook. There's silence for a few moments.

Kenma unpauses his game, sighing. “You probably shouldn't have done that.”

“No, you shouldn't,” Yaku says, gearing himself up for a lecture. “Do you know how dangerous that was? I felt that and you weren't even aiming it at me.” He throws his arm towards the now empty doorway. “And now she probably does hate monsters, because _you_ had to be a dick about a stupid room. Well done, Kuro, I am _so_ telling your dad about this.”

“She already hated monsters, did you see how she looked at me?”

“Maybe she's just met you before,” Kenma deadpans as he kills three enemies at once. Kuro sniggers. Yaku punches his arm, scowling.

They devolve into an argument – or at least Yaku does, Kuro instead sidestepping his accusations with comments on the weather, on Yaku's height, generally inane or slightly insulting things, which only serves to make Yaku angrier. Which of course is exactly what Kuro wants, because he is, in fact, a dick that way. Kenma can admit that. They've been together for years now, Kenma accepts the good with the bad. He knows Kuro does too.

Kenma's phone buzzes with an email on the desk in front of him. The words _Shouyou, Re: (no subject)_ appear in large letters. Kuro makes a grab for his phone, humming in thought as he unlocks Kenma's phone and reads the email. Kenma sighs and looks up from his game.

“Shrimpy's made a friend,” Kuro says.

“Don't call Wingback's shrimps!” Yaku fumes before taking a deep breath and visibly trying to calm himself down.

“You're all so short, though.”

“You're a Wingback, too, you know,” Yaku huffs. “You're not short.”

“Only half.” Kuro replies, waving Kenma's phone in the air. “And Darknuts are tall, so it cancels out.”

“Kuro.” Kenma says. “Phone.” Kuro hands him the phone without complaint, moving over to Yaku with a smile on his face. Kenma absorbs himself in the email before he can get wrapped up in whatever conversation they're about to have.

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_what wud u do if u found a mysterious psychic???_

 

Kenma frowns. The answer seems obvious.

 

_**To: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_Nothing? Go home, I guess._

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_ur no fun!!!!_

_rly tho look at them!! mysterious!!!!!!_

_[media attached]_

 

The photo is a blurry one of Hinata posing in the foreground and a tall, angry looking person who seems to be caught mid verbal tirade in the back. Kenma smirks.

 

_**To: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_Whos that?_

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_i dnt kno!!! thts the point!!!!!_

_help me :((((_

 

_**To: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_No._

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: wow??_

 

_rude_

 

Kuro looks up from his conversation with Yaku, which has managed to move into the more neutral grounds of commune gossip. “So what's up?”

“Shouyou wants me to help figure out his friend,” Kenma sighs. He thinks he's making the oxygen in the room thinner.

“That sounds fun,” Kuro says with a grin. “Ask them both round.”

“No.”

“Kenma, come on. It'll be good for you to meet new people.”

“I don't want to.”

“I'll be there,” says Kuro, as if it'll help.

Yaku's eyebrows go up. “You're not coming back to the commune?” Kuro shakes his head.

“Nah, need to pick something up from my mum's, might as well stay.”

He'd made it a habit, had Kuro, to follow Kenma home like a duckling whenever he was staying at his mother's. Their houses were in the same direction and for some reason Kuro didn't like Kenma to be alone, even though Kenma did. He would enter the house Kenma shared with his parents, immediately go to the kitchen, raid the cupboards and cook something for the both of them. If Kenma were feeling generous, he'd call it sweet. But it came with the condition that Kuro would push him to do things he didn't want to do, like anything at all, and they were usually things that flirted aimlessly with causing a lot of trouble.

“Kenmaaa,” Kuro whines. Kenma rolls his eyes.

“You just want to see if you can get a rise out the psychic.”

“No I don't.” He has the audacity to look offended. “I'm doing this for you.”

“I'm saying no for me.”

Kuro tuts at the same moment Kenma's phone buzzes again.

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_they jst tried 2 steal my phon nd delete the pic but they cudnt wrk it this is hilarious_

 

And then, about twenty seconds later.

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_they hit me??!!!_

_not hard but still ><_

 

_**To: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_Did you deserve it?_

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_no!!!_

 

_**To: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_Are you lying to me?_

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_i dnt appreciate ur tone kenma_

 

Kenma makes a sound that could be construed as a laugh, then sets his phone back on the desk and picks up his game.

There's never a beginning. There is a sequence of things which affect one another. There are decisions which influence other decisions, actions which were done because actions have been done before. Everything, ultimately, is full of consequence - even the things that don't seem like it. And Kenma knows this, it's what makes him good at reading situations, at understanding what will happen next. But if you asked him how it all began, he would probably say this: “I put my phone back down.”

Kuro swipes it up as soon as Kenma has opened up his handheld. He quickly unlocks it and begins tapping.

“Kuro, what are you doing.”

“Being helpful.”

“Give me back my phone.”

“Mmmno.”

“Kuro,” Kenma says, dangerously. Yaku lets out a low whistle and Kenma shoots a scathing look towards him. Kuro chuckles at the screen and begins typing again.

“Kuro...” Kenma repeats, standing up. But now that he's up he's not exactly sure what to do. If he went and tried to grab his phone back, Kuro would simply hold it above his head, which would be tiring _and_ humiliating. So Kenma spends a few unsure moments on his feet and then slowly sits back down, resolving to change his password as soon as Kuro gives his phone back.

“Okay, done,” Kuro sniggers, placing the phone back next to Kenma and laughing more as he all but dives for it.

 

_**To: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_Hey shrimp its kuro you can come over in like 20 if you want. Bring your psychic and kenma will bring his. Also if kenma tells you not to come then ignore him im trying to make him less of a shut-in._

 

_**From: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_to kenmas? wat r u like married?_

 

_**To: Shouyou** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_No comment. Be there or be square my young friend._

 

Kenma's head hits the table. Maybe he can give himself a light concussion and he won't have to deal with this, or at least he'll be out of it enough to ignore it.

“What did you do?” Yaku asks. “He's broken.”

Kuro shrugs. “It's just a playdate. It'll be fun, Kenma, don't be so down.”

Kenma plugs his ears. Perhaps not the most mature road but at least mildly satisfying.

His phone buzzes. Kenma hits his head on the desk again.

 

~*~

 

They're really not so bad once you get over their prickly demeanour. Hinata has learnt not to take what they say too seriously; mostly what comes out of their mouth is a knee-jerk reaction to whatever comes out of Hinata's. And Hinata is willing to admit he can be abrasive in certain situations, but he's managed to rationalise it as a part of his charm. Besides, if a few bruises on his arms and his ego is what he gets for being curious then he can live with that.

They'd spent a while talking together after the stranger finished the rest of his bento, Hinata trying to weasel answers out of his new friend and his new friend dodging them with blunt insults. Hinata talked about his life at the commune, about his mother and Natsu, about Noya and Tanaka, about Kenma, little things about his life which he hoped would prompt his friend to reveal something about themself, though it never did. He even found himself skirting around the topic of his dad, but anytime he tried to find words for it he failed, and eventually he just left it alone.

He found himself laughing, too. Not that he doesn't laugh often, he does, but for some reason balancing on the edge of an argument and a joke with every interaction made them come more loudly, more often.

“Why are you still talking to me?” they had asked at one point, not unkindly this time but with an incredulous curiosity. “I hurt you. I keep hurting you.”

Hinata laughs. “You hurt me like once and you didn't even mean it.”

“I punched you today.”

“Kenma told me I deserved it.” Hinata shrugs. “And it didn't hurt, not really.”

“What if I hurt you again?”

“You won't.”

“How do you know?”

Hinata shrugs once more, wings rising with his shoulders. “I dunno. I trust you, I guess.”

He catches the way their face morphs into genuine puzzlement and files it away to ask Kenma about later. After that, he asks why they wear winter clothes when it's so warm out and he receives another insult in return. He files that away, too.

They're sitting side by side, still outside the school gate, watching the sky. It's blue from one end to the other, like the sun has melted the clouds right out of it, trying to find something. His friend sits with their legs up by their chest and their arms folded on their knees. They alternate between looking up and looking down, but never at Hinata, as if they're afraid he might not really be there. Hinata takes the opportunity to stare at them, at their delicate features, at the way the lines of their face work – the hard set of their mouth, the hard slope of their eyebrows. They're not particularly good-looking or attractive, not conventionally at least, but there's a beauty in the way they stare, completely focused, uncompromising. And when they look up at all the nothing, at all the empty space of sky, it's like they're seeing it for the first time all over again. It makes Hinata want to look up to, wonders if there's something up there that he can't see.

“What's a commune like?” they ask after a minute or so of silence, in which Hinata had been content to stare up at the sky and watch them out the corner of his eye. He leans back in surprise.

“Are you seriously asking me a question?”

“Don't answer my question with another question, dumbass.”

“Well I wouldn't have to if...” Hinata flounders. “If you weren't so stupid.”

They scoff. Hinata feels his feathers puff in outrage and his mouth open, first in indignation and then in retaliation, but his friend cuts him off.

“I'm curious. I've never...”

Hinata waits. “Never what?” he prompts after a second or two.

“Nothing. Answer me.”

Hinata pulls a face but lets it go. He leans back against the wall. “Well, I dunno. It's nice I guess. Mine is just this tall building where all my family live, and some other people too. And you just sort of... live? I guess?” Hinata shrugs.

“How do you live?”

He grimaces. “I've never really thought about it.” He taps his lip. “Yaku - that's Kenma's friend – he's a Wingback too. Different commune, though. Anyway, Yaku – oh and he's really into history, I probably should have said that. He said he wants to be a historian so he's probably going to Uni. He's smart enough, I think, and he goes to a smart school, but to be honest I don't know him that well...” Hinata realises his digression, coughs, and reorients himself.

“So, Yaku says that before the integration it was all more spread out, like families would have their own houses or huts or whatever, and then a commune would be loads of families who are also family and they would all live and work together and stuff. And they'd come and go between houses, that's a lot like how it is now, the coming and going bit, except not all spread out anymore.

“Oh, and apparently Edo used to be a Wingback city, did you know that? Like, loads of different communes all allied with each other and fishing at the bay. It sounds cool, I wish it were still like that. Except I guess I wouldn't have met Kenma if it was, so maybe not? Well, it would be nice to have more Wingbacks nearby at least, especially if they helped us out. Not that we can't help ourselves out! It's just hard, I guess. Like my mum raised me and Natsu alone, and she had help from the others but I guess it was still hard. And there's so many parents in the SDF and that makes it harder. Not that that's a bad thing I guess. Noya loves it, you know? His mum's an officer, she's really cool...” Hinata trails off when he realises his friend is looking at him.

They're not frowning. Their face is wide open, still carrying that same intensity. It makes them look so much younger, maybe even younger than Hinata looks. And it's uncomfortable.

“Go on,” they say, quiet enough that Hinata could pretend not to hear it. He coughs.

“Ah, well... I'm embarrassed now. Besides, you haven't answered anything I asked, so why should I tell you anything?”

They roll their eyes, their expression going guarded once more. “You just did, stupid,” they say as Hinata breaths a small sigh of relief.

“Yeah, well, you tricked me!”

“By asking you a question?”

“I wasn't expecting it!”

His friend snorts. “What's flying like?” they ask after a second or two.

“Oh, wow, I dont know? It's just like _swoosh,_ you know?” Hinata makes an arcing motion with his hand. “I mean, what's running like?”

“It's like flying,” his friend replies. Hinata laughs kindly. He fidgets, then launches himself to his feet, offering a hand out for his friend.

“Come with me.”

They stare at the hand. “Where?”

“It's a surprise.”

“No.”

“Come on! It'll be fun!”

“No,” they repeat. “Tell me and I'll think about it.” Hinata groans.

“To my friend Kenma's,” Hinata says, staring down at them. “He's really cool, like, super smart and funny and always calm, and I don't get all his jokes but they still make me laugh.”

His friend blinks once up at him. “Absolutely not,” they say.

“Come _on!_ ” he whines. “Kenma knows everything, you can ask him stuff you don't know.”

“Why would that convince me?”

Hinata makes a nonplussed expression. “It would convince me.”

“Well I'm not you.”

“I've noticed.” Hinata beckons with his outstretched hand. “Now come with me!”

“No.”

“What, you think he's too smart for you?”

“ _No,_ ” his friend says, scowling up at him. Hinata grins.

“You're scared he's gonna show you up or something, aren't you.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my God, you totally are.

“I am _not!_ ” they shout, with more gusto than is necessary.

“Prove it,” Hinata challenges.

They narrow their eyes up at him for a long, long second. Hinata fixes his grin and holds his breath.

“Fine,” they bite out. Hinata beams. With a deliberate calm they ignore Hinata's open hand and get up on their own, leaving him to drop it awkwardly back by his side. They both stand face to face.

“Well?” they snap.

“Ugh, cant you, like, just _say_ anything?”

“Shut up. Tell me where to go.”

“Well which is it you boob, do I shut up or tell you?”

“Just lead the way!”

“Why don't _you_ lead the way!”

Hinata's new friend makes a beautifully confused face which in other circumstances might have made him laugh, but here and now only serves to bring a heavy, embarrassed flush to his face. They don't even have to say anything, Hinata turns around quickly and marches up the street, trying to ignore the cruel laughter behind him.

Kenma lives in a way more human area than the commune or the school, almost on the outskirts of town, and it's a damn trek. Hinata asks if his friend has money for the bus but they quickly shake their head no, and so they walk, spending all forty minutes bickering back and forth. His friend periodically asks him how much further they have to go and Hinata periodically gives him the wrong answer. It's not really his fault that he doesn't know, he thinks, he usually flies, but he knows the general direction and he's pretty sure he's not getting them too lost. This knowledge doesn't stop his friend from being annoying, though.

Every so often Hinata hangs back whenever a corner needs to be turned and watches as his friend carries on walking, giggling loudly and running away when they inevitably stumble and turn back, shouting curses. Once he lets them go and hides out of sight, covering his mouth with his hands to keep from making a sound. “Hinata?” they say. Then “Hinata?” louder and angrier. And then “fine,” and that was angry too, but with more layers, more to it than Hinata understood. He'd jumped out at them then, screaming and pretending it was a ruse to make them jump (which they did, and then vehemently denied). Hinata didn't try that trick again.

His friend starts getting more nervous the closer they get to Kenma's, the more the houses get further apart and the more humans they see walking by. They sweat, the day hot and their clothes too warm. By the time they reach Kenma's door, they're rigid and dripping.

“Take off that scarf, at least,” Hinata says to distract them.

“Shut up,” they say back.

The door opens, revealing a grinning Kuroo.

“Hey Kuroo!” Hinata says, face splitting into a wide smile. He feels his friend tense up even more beside him.

“What's up, shrimpy.” He nods towards the new face without taking his eyes of Hinata. “This your friend?”

“Who are you?” they ask, hostile.

“I'm Kuroo, weren't you listening?” Kuro says, finally turning his attention to them. He laughs, low and mocking. “You sure pick 'em bright, Hinata.”

A voice drifts towards them from deeper in the house. “Kuro,” it says. “Be nice.”

“Yes dear,” Kuro shouts back. “Okay, friend and friend of friend, come on in.”

Hinata follows him into the house, unaware of the way his friend hovers restlessly by the threshold and then follows because they have nowhere else to go. The interior is spacious and decorated with delicate, useless trinkets. In the living room, Kuro moves to sit by Kenma, folded up on the couch and playing his DS. He rests his feet by Kenma's legs, who grunts and doesn't complain as he reluctantly saves his game.

Hinata looks to his friend. They strand straight as a rod, hands fisted by their sides. Then, without warning, they bow – a sharp, jerky thing.

“It's a pleasure to meet you,” they bite out. Everyone blinks in unison.

Kenma's eyebrows shoot right up into his hairline. “Okay. You don't have to do that.”

“Kenma,” Kuro croons. “Be nice.”

They rock back with wide eyes. Their head snaps to the side, eyeing the empty leather armchair with wariness. Hinata quickly takes a seat on the couch and smiles up at them encouragingly. Their jaw is locked tight with discomfort.

“So,” Kuro says loudly, clapping his hands and cutting through the tension. “Our Hinata here says you're a psychic. That true?” Kuro asks, leering at them. Hinata gulps down his apprehension.

Their eyes narrow as they stare at Kuro. “What I am or am not is none of your business.” Kuro's smile widens. Hinata begins to feel something clog his throat. His friend growls.

“Stop that,” they say, voice higher and thinner than usual. There's a silence, drawn out and lingering, in which Kuro only smiles.

“Kuro,” Kenma sighs, warningly. The feeling abruptly lifts. Hinata's friend gasps quietly. Kenma is staring at the person stood in his living room, unblinking. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all.

“So what are you?” Kuro asks. “You look like a psychic. Or maybe a human -”

“They're not human,” Hinata quickly stammers, cutting off his friend's outraged cry.

“Alright so psychic. What kind?”

They say nothing.

“Shall we do introductions?” Kuro asks. Kenma carries on staring at Hinata's friend. “Will that get you talking?”

Silence.

“I guess you already know Hinata,” Kuro says, ignoring the tension. “I'm Tetsurou Kuroo, I'm a Darknut slash Wingback hybrid.” He gestures towards Kenma with his thumb. “This is Kenma. He's my... Kenma. He's a human.”

“ _Human?_ ” Hinata's friend suddenly shouts, taking three quick steps backwards. Their eyes shoot towards Hinata as they stand on the other side of the living room doorway. “You brought me to a _human?_ ”

“What? Yes? I'm sorry?” Hinata squawks, frantically. Kuro grins. Kenma stares.

“Is something the matter?” Kenma asks, lightly. When he receives no reply other than heavy breathing he stretches a hand towards Hinata's friend. They recoil, despite being a metre or two away from his fingertips, a squeak of panic passing their lips.

“Don't touch me!” They step further back, stumbling over their own feet. “Don't _touch_ me!” they repeat. They're hyperventilating now, eyes wide and pupils tiny. They keep repeating it under their breath “don't touch me don't touch me don't touch me” like some kind of chant or mantra, something to keep them grounded. Kenma stares.

No one does anything, all balanced on the edge of something about to break. And then, after a frozen moment, they run, the door slamming loudly behind them, leaving the other three to stare after them.

“Well,” Kenma says, voice masked in a convincing imitation of apathy. “That was something.” He opens his DS again as Kuro snorts in agreement. Hinata jumps to his feet.

“I'm sorry, Kenma! I didn't know they'd be that weird!” Kenma waves at him, already focused on his game. “I'm gonna go find them, okay?” He bows. “I'm really sorry, I'll spend more time with you later.”

As Hinata is leaving, he hears Kuro's voice go “interesting, huh?” and he hears Kenma hum in distracted reply.

 

~*~

 

They are small. It gets dark. The trees are sentinels and they are not guarding this little body between them. The world is big. The sky is big. The grass is prickly and almost hurts to sit on. Arms round legs, legs by chest, head between knees and tears on face. Sobbing hurts. Sobbing helps. They are the smallest thing in the universe. Make a loud noise and confirm yourself. Lost in the woods. A small hand in a big one, then gone. A deep voice. Gripping the grass but not pulling. Cries themself out. Still alone. The trees are looming in the dark of the night. Their name being called. A deep voice. Crying again. Found.

 

~*~

 

Suga has been emailing Daichi on and off since he got off work yesterday. Nothing interesting, only joking banter, the type that makes Suga huff gentle laughs under his breath and giggle as he texts back. It's nice. Easy. Suga likes easy.

He has his phone in his hands and a smile on his face as he walks to Kiyoko's shop. He finds his way via muscle memory. His feet know the route he's walked more times than he can count. He understands the directions between the graveyard and Kiyoko's less as road names and street signs and more as numbers, the amount of footsteps he walks, the amount of songs he can listen to.

He takes the time between texting to visualise Kiyoko's shop, the smell of coffee, the smell of books and old leather, the way her eyes will go from his phone to his face, how she'll raise her eyebrow when he arrives, press her lips thin and smile like she's holding it back. The feel of a warm mug between his hands, the sound of easy chat.

Suga blinks up at the sky, cloudless and burning. It's going to be a good day.

The streets get narrower the closer he gets to Kiyoko's, the buildings falling over each other in their scramble for space. He walks with an easy, slow stride. He smells jasmine.

There's the sound of whooshing cars going past on the main road, of whispers, the _th-clp th-clp_ of his feet in flip-flops, of whispers, of formless human voices from the street and from his head.

Suga shoves a finger in his ear and digs around, even though he knows it won't help. The whispers are getting louder.

It's like sirens speeding towards you, the way it starts at the edge of your consciousness and grows to fill everything. He barely even registers the sound of someone running past the noise, hardly notices the way they shove him as the whispers get louder. And it's only for a moment, as the stranger's shoulder bumps into Suga's, that he hears distinct voices, two different timbres, loud enough to be screaming.

He clutches his head, watching as the stranger's back gets smaller and smaller until it disappears around a corner. The whispers die back down to their usual level of white noise. For a while he just stands there, dumbstruck. And it worries him deeply that he wants to follow. The whispers murmur.

“Suga?” Suga's head snaps towards the voice. “Did something happen?”

Kiyoko stands outside her shop, arm braced against the door and black apron rustling slightly in the breeze. She looks concerned, maybe slightly suspicious, her eyes roving from the hand clutched to Suga's head to his face, gaping and shocked.

“Did you see that?” he asks, his voice barely louder than a breath. “Whoever that was?”

“Who pushed past you?”

“Yes.” Suga turns his attention back to the empty street. He doesn't say anything else. Kiyoko narrows her eyes.

“Did they hurt you?”

“I don't know. I don't think so. Only...” Suga's hand drops from his head. “It was weird. Made the whispers go haywire.”

Kiyoko hums, eyes still narrowed. She pulls at the long sleeves of her top and follows Suga's line of sight. Her holes are up her arms and legs, none on her face or neck or hands, in winding patterns close to f-holes and perfectly symmetrical. That's why she wears long sleeves and jeans so much, Suga knows, even though they're beautiful. She said to him once that she preferred to choose who saw them, though she made no secret of being a Wall.

“Well,” she says, breaking the silence. “As long as you're okay. Why don't you come in? How are things with Mr Graveyard?”

“Kiyoko, don't call him that, it's creepy. And we only met yesterday, I don't have any sordid stories yet. Is Asahi in?”

Kiyoko laughs, a tinkling, harmonic sound. “No, he's at work, I think. And I wasn't expecting sordid, I was expecting romance.”

“He's not been coming much lately, has he,” Suga says by way of conversation. Kiyoko makes a difficult to place humming noise, dismissive and worried at the same time. Suga raises an eyebrow at her, which she chooses to ignore.

He's about to suggest they head in when Hinata happens.

“Suga!” comes a shout from above. Suga looks up instinctively at the same time Kiyoko does, although his view is unmarred by the canopy over the shop. “Suga is that you?” Hinata arrives in a ball of orange and feathers, landing on the roof of Kiyoko's shop, wingspan too wide to touch down comfortably in the narrow street. His face lights up when he confirms Suga's identity and he begins to shimmy down the drainpipe, talking all the while.

“Suga, oh man I'm so glad to see you. Have you see a – ow!” Hinata hisses as he cuts a finger on a loose nail. He licks at it, careful of his claws, makes a strange whining sound and then continues to move back down. “Have you seen a tall kid? Black hair? They were running and probably looked angry.” He lands in front of Suga. “I saw them go this way but then I lost them and I think they're hiding like a _baby._ ” His arms are crossed but his expression is earnest. Suga blinks rapidly, momentarily too surprised to answer.

Hinata, however, can't wait a moment. He and Suga had never been close, they'd both gone to Kurasuno, but with Hinata in first year and Suga in third they had only met properly a few times. But that's really all the times Suga needs to know that Hinata is an overwhelming, very sweet, very exhausting force to be reckoned with.

Hinata grabs Suga's sleeve. “I _know_ they went this way, you must have seen them, right? Did they keep running straight? Were they still running?”

Kiyoko coughs subtly. Hinata squeaks loudly and turns.

“Oh! H-hi Shimizu! How's up! I mean, what's up. Or how's it going? Is that too informal?” He bows suddenly, a blush spreading from his neck to his forehead. “I-it's nice to meet you! Again. It's nice to see you again, is what I mean. Not because you're beautiful! You are beautiful, but that's not the reason it's nice to see you!” Hinata coughs. There's silence for a second. Kiyoko seems to be hurting herself by holding her laughter back yet she still says nothing. Hinata is about to open his mouth again but Suga gets there first.

“Kiyoko,” he says. “Please have mercy.”

Kiyoko smiles down at Hinata, a glint in her eye. “I think they went that way,” she says softly, pointing down the street. “First right.”

Hinata squeals. “Thank you Shimizu!” and then he's off, running, not flying. Suga feels like he's been hit by something hard and heavy. He shakes his head and feels a smile breaking through as he turns to Kiyoko.

“That was cruel.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Suga puffs out a clipped laugh.

“He's better than he was before,” she says thoughtfully, moving to finally enter the shop. “I used to have to carry the whole conversation on my own.”

“That wasn't a conversation, that was you torturing an innocent boy.”

She shrugs as she moves behind her counter, following Suga with her eyes as he trudges into her shop. The blast of air conditioning which descends from above the door pulls a heartfelt sigh from him.

“He and Hitoka are friends, aren't they?” Suga asks.

Kiyoko shrugs with one shoulder, moving to the coffee machine. “I believe so.”

“Figures.”

“How so?”

Suga hums. It had just been a feeling, nothing concrete behind it. But he speaks anyway. “They're both very... them.”

Kiyoko laughs her windchime laugh. “Yes, I suppose you're right.”

Suga smiles at her. He feels his phone buzz with another email. He sees the sky in all its blue.

It's going to be a good day.

 

~*~

 

They're slow, they know they are. Not cumbersome, not graceless, but heavy and slow. Now, though, running, shivering, gnashing their teeth together, it doesn't matter. This body is made for fight and not flight. It's made for head on collisions. But that doesn't stop them from running, because that's what they do. And it would be freeing, if it weren't for the way their lungs squeezed together and their heart pounded so hard that they felt sure absolutely sure that it would burst and they would really, finally die.

They run for they don't know how long. They fold themselves up and shake against some back alley wall for they don't know how much longer. They don't know when Hinata turns up, or what he says to them. They know they shy away from his touch, they know they make a sound that's more growl than it is sob, but still sob. They know that it's wrong to show all this to a stranger.

They know that after they ignore Hinata in favour of the rising panic in their chest that he sits by them and babbles in a soft, steady voice. The thought hits them that he would make a good nurse, and then it disappears.

They don't know how long it takes to calm down. They don't know how many memories they relive.

It must be late. It's getting dark.

It's a struggle, but they force words out.

“What do you want.” It comes out vicious and they meant it to. Hinata recoils, in surprise or fear they don't know or care.

“I wanted to see if you were okay.”

They scoff, sardonic and cruel.

“What? What's so funny about that?” He sounds legitimately offended.

“Because it's ridiculous. We're not friends. Leave me alone.”

“I'm not leaving you alone, not now.” And there's hurt in that sentence, which he takes as a victory, although he can't parse what it's from. “It's dark and you're scared.”

“You took me to a _human._ ”

“Jeez, I'm sorry!” They catch the way Hinata raises his palms from the outside edge of their vision. “How was I supposed to know you'd freak out like that?”

“You still did it.”

“I'm sorry. I know you're scared, but -”

“I'm not _scared!_ ” They yell, a loud, unbridled roar. “What the _fuck_ would you know about it?”

“Its okay to be scared,” comes Hinata's mild reply. “I promise.” They tear their eyes away from the ground to look at him. He wears a hesitant smile. Sharp stare wrapped in soft eyes. “I'm scared of loads of things. I'm scared of people bigger than me and going to school. I was even scared of you for a while until I realised you're just a grump.”

They look at him. He's so odd. He's so different from everything.

“Don't tell anyone that,” he says.

“That you're scared of everything?”

“Not everything! I'm not scared of _you!_ ”

They sneer. “You just told me you were.”

“Not now!” Hinata says, throwing his arms in the air. “You're such a dummy, don't you listen to anything?”

“Whatever.”

“Whatever!”

They stare each other down for a second. Then Hinata laughs.

“Why are you laughing?” they ask, angry.

“You're funny,” Hinata replies, like it's simple.

“Funny? How am I funny?”

“You're just, like, so intense about the dumbest things.”

“And you're not?”

“No!”

Their top lip pulls back. They look away. “Whatever you say, dumbass.”

“I'm intense about important things.”

“Like annoying me?”

“Yes!”

That almost makes them want to smile. They don't. They sit in graveyard silence instead.

“You, uh, never told me your name, you know,” Hinata says after a few beats of blissful quiet.

“Okay.”

“Will you tell me?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Their eyebrows go up as they look towards him without meaning to. He's not looking at them. He watches the sky instead, watches the sun disappear. He sits with his legs in front of him and his hands between his knees, back arched slightly. He sits like a kid fascinated by something. But his face is serious and still, without a trace of annoyance or trickery or anger or anything they'd expect.

“Kageyama,” they say, before they can stop themself. Hinata's head snaps in their direction, his face going from serious to giddy with hardly anything in between.

“That's you name?” His voice is higher, excited.

“What do you think?”

“Kageyama,” he repeats. “Kageyama what?”

“Kageyama.”

“Kageyama Kageyama?”

“No, you fucking idjit, just Kageyama.”

Oh, huh. That's weird,” he says, ignoring the insult.

“It's not weird,” Kageyama replies, irate. “It's my name.”

Hinata fishes his phone out his pocket. “Your name is weird. Who has only one name?” He checks the time and grimaces. Kageyama doesn't answer.

“I, uh... I think I have to go home now,” Hinata says, stuffing his phone away. Kageyama kills the tiny disappointment they feel in their chest the moment it appears. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yes”

“Are you sure?”

“ _Yes,_ ” they repeat through gritted teeth. “You're so annoying.”

Hinata seems to be working up the courage to say something. “Do you have a place to sleep?” he asks, finally.

“Yes, God.” It's not really a lie.

“Okay.”

“Don't you have to go?”

“Yeah,” Hinata says, wistfully. He waits a while before he gets up. Kageyama stays seated, arms on top of their knees. “I'll see you later?” That's how he phrases it, like a question.

“Maybe.”

And that's it. That's all there is to it. Hinata stays for a beat longer before he gives a short goodbye. Kageyama gives a nod in return. Then he walks away, the dark getting darker around him until it swallows him up. Kageyama keeps their eyes trained upwards to catch a tiny body silhouetted against the stars, but they don't see anything. There's only the moon. There's only the dark. There's only the night.

 

~*~

 

Come on, Shouyou! Come on, you can reach! A huge body, a face he almost remembers but not quite, dangling the toy in front of him just out of reach. Come on, baby, come on, little one! Every time he jumps it's pulled away. He flaps his tiny wings ineffectively. A deep chuckle, three trips of laughter. It's right here, Shouyou, you can do it! He lets out a cry and claws at it, fingers swiping at air. He can hear another laugh now, his mother's, from behind this body. And he thinks, if he had the toy in his hand, if he was the one dangling it, maybe he would be laughing as well. You can do it! You're the king of jumping, right Shouyou? And he growls, and he's so close this time, and then he lands wrong and hits his butt. He feels the shock of it, feels the hurt, and there's a moment or two of nothing before he begins to wail. Strong arms, bigger than he is, bigger than anything in the world, all wrapped around him. An instant comfort. The toy forgotten on the floor. Hey, shhh, I'm sorry, It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. He cries into a giant chest. He hears a lullaby sung badly; makes his eyes heavy. It's okay, it's okay, it's okay. But it's not. It's not.

 


	2. Noya & Shouyou

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he goes to sit by her, Natsu is connecting bricks at random, creating a multi-coloured monstrosity that grows upwards.
> 
> “What are you building?”
> 
> “A tower.”
> 
> “Huh.” Noya prods at it and Natsu squeals, slapping his hand away. “Looks more like a spaceship to me.”
> 
> “It's a tower if I say it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this really fast because I'm a waste of space with no job.
> 
> Kudos and comments are v much appreciated but, like, you do you.
> 
> CW in this chapter for:   
> blood and descriptions of blood

Their face is smooshed up next to a stranger's arm and they smell armpit from everywhere. Their feet don't quite reach the floor and every time the bus hits a pothole is sends a shockwave from their coccyx to their collar bone. They really, really, really wish that their dad hadn't decided to talk to the driver at the moment he did, because the stranger is taking up all of the room and it's getting really hard to breathe. This wasn't a good idea. Their dad keeps saying Tobio, Tobio, you okay there? Loudly over the noise and they keep nodding and not speaking because people are staring and they're kind of angry at their father. The two of them didn't need to go into town, it was nice at home with the forest and its quiet. And the journey took almost an hour, first walking and then on the bus. And sure, maybe it could have been nice, because they've been on nice trips to the town before, but there is a lot of arm in their face right now and it's ruining everything. They can't decide if this is their dad's fault or the stranger's fault or their own. It's probably all three. The stranger repositions and Tobio feels their face pressed up against the window. It jitters with the bus. It jitters so hard that one of their loose baby teeth comes out and they end up swallowing it. And now they won't get tooth fairy money. Perfect.

 

~*~

 

Hinata Shouyou hadn't _meant_ to forget about studying, it had just slipped his mind with all the weirdness of the past week. There had been other things to think about, there had been Noya and his temper, Kageyama and their riddle; on his list of priorities algebra came fairly low down. Of course, that's not what he told his teacher. Instead he had apologised to her with a brilliant red flush as she drew attention to his low mark in front of the whole class. He thinks now that he ought to have at least attempted a proper excuse, because here he is dragging his feet through Kurasuno's gates an hour later than he had originally intended, having only just finished stumbling his way through a make up test. He kicks a rock in his path. At least he doesn't have to deal with Noya.

He bites absently at the scab on his index finger as he walks, the one he'd gotten climbing down Kiyoko's shop. He knows he shouldn't, he can already taste blood and besides, it is kind of disgusting, but it's something to do so he does it. Blood trickles down his chin but he doesn't stop.

Today is Tuesday. Tomorrow will be Wednesday. The whole world is a mass of waiting things, a laundry list of potential experiences. Hinata doesn't want to know what the days will bring. But he does, and it's tiring.

He's so absorbed in his biting and bad mood that it takes a full twenty steps off school grounds before a synapse fires in his brain and he registers the snoring silhouette in Winter clothes which had been against the school wall. He stops mid-step. Not just stops, his whole body stills, except for his face which buds and blooms into a grin.

He spins on his heel and runs back as fast as he can, screaming “Kageyama!” in his high, reedy voice. Kageyama jerks awake with a swear. They immediately jump up and raise their fist, eyelids drooping noticeably, only to drop them when they recognise the feathery mass hurtling towards them.

“Oh,” they say, voice rough as Hinata comes to a stop. “It's you.”

“No, it's _you!_ ” Hinata shoots back. “What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in ages!”

“It's been a week.”

“Whatever, that's ages.” Truth be told Kageyama themself hadn't been high up on that list of priorities, but the nagging mystery of them had. It's like they're made of intangible things, a person built out of shadows. There's something there, at the core of them, Hinata knows it, something that sets a fire under him and makes him forget about the stilted conversations with Noya that leave him feeling worse about himself. Seeing this giant, surly enigma again is a welcome break after a week of predictable frustration.

There's a moment of painfully awkward silence in which Hinata comes to terms with Kageyama's stunted conversational skills once again. He pokes around in his brain for topics to talk about, usually not a hard feat for him, but all of them seem to involve Noya, or at least have a tangential relationship to him, and that's something he doesn't want to think about right now. In the end, it's Kageyama who breaks the silence.

“Why are you just standing there?”

“What?” Hinata replies, pulling a strange face.

“Say something.”

“I am saying something!"

“But you weren't.”

“Why don't you say something?”

“I did.”

“You said something about me saying something. That's not saying something!”

Kageyama shakes their head like they're trying to get something off it. “What are you talking about?” they ask through a mouth twisted in confusion. “You're so weird.”

“Like you're one to talk, sleeping outside the school gates. _Again._ ” Hinata moves to lean against the wall next to them. “Why are you here, anyway?”

Kageyama blushes. Hinata really wouldn't have thought it possible if the proof weren't right there in front of him. He very nearly gapes.

“I got... lost. In the town.” They push the words through like it hurts them.

“And you ended up here?”

“It's the only place I knew how to get to!”

“Huh.” Hinata wears his serious face again, the dark one which feels like something sharp. So they really aren't from Edo, it's not like the town is big enough to get lost in if you know it well enough. And that begs the question, where are they from? Who is this person stood beside them? Hinata wants to know, he's never wanted anything so badly in his life.

“I thought you forgot about me,” he says to keep the conversation going.

Kageyama snorts. “How could I forget about _you?_ ” The words might have sounded sweet if it weren't for the gruffness they were said with, the scorn that decorated the last word. It sounds more insult than anything else. Hinata laughs regardless, a pleased edge to his chuckles.

“Okay!” he says, pushing himself away from the wall. “Let's do something then.”

Kageyama stares at him like he's grown a new face. “Do something?”

“Yeah, like, do something?” Hinata bounces in front of them. “Like how people do things together?”

“What do you mean?"

“Jesus,” Hinata sighs. “I mean go for a walk or see the town or, like, I dunno... something!” There's a beat where neither of them know what to say, like the conversation stumbles over its own feet, before Hinata opens his mouth again and asks, “do you want to come over?”

“To... your house?”

“Yeah!” He smiles bright at them. “You can meet my mum and my sister! Well, half-sister technically but still.” He doesn't mention how Noya will probably be around as well. If all goes well they can just avoid him.

“No.”

“Come on!”

“No, I can't.”

“Yes you can.”

“Okay, goodbye.”

“Wait!” Hinata grabs the back of Kageyama's shirt as they begin to walk away. “Fine, why don't we go someplace else?” Kageyama looks over their shoulder, frowning.

“Why?”

“Because I want to hang out with you, stupid!”

Their frown gets deeper. “Why?”

“Ugh,” Hinata rolls his eyes and lets go of their shirt. “Just come with me, we'll go see Yachi. There's no way _she_ can freak you out.” Kageyama is facing him again. Hinata reaches for their arm, fully ready to drag them only to pause mid-reach. His eyes go unfocused. “Oh... she's at work.” His hand stays clawed close to Kageyama's chest as he gulps. He turns his gaze to meet their eye. “Whatever happens, you have to promise not to make fun of me, okay?”

But they aren't looking at him, they don't even seem to be listening. Kageyama stares down at Hinata's hand, finger dripping blood onto the pavement. Their chin disappears into their neck as they pull back, forming a flat plane from their chest to their forehead. There's a faint blue-green sheen to their skin.

“Are you okay?” Hinata asks. The perennial question.

Kageyama swallows. “I don't like blood.”

It congeals as it flows, the blood slows its drip and clots, knits his skin back together. Dark, dark red and bumpy; a tiny, organic mountain range. Things from the inside not meant to be shown.

Hinata quickly drops his hand and curls it into a fist. “Blood and humans,” he says with that same sharp expression. “You have weird phobias too.”

“They're not phobias.”

“Irrational fears,” he prods them with his other hand, his left one, suddenly grinning again. “That's a phobia, idiot.”

“They're not irrational,” Kageyama mutters, too quiet for Hinata to hear them properly, and Hinata doesn't care enough to make them repeat it. He walks in front of them instead, tugging at their sleeve with his left hand and smiling, telling them how it's not that far to where Yachi works and he _promises_ there won't be humans this time. Well, he doesn't think so. None they'll have to talk to, at least.

He's quietly delighted when Kageyama follows with only a few grumbled complaints.

 

~*~

 

Sometimes Noya gives Hinata such withering looks that even Tanaka winces, feeling the sting like he's collateral damage. For the past week their interactions have been the aural equivalent of chewing on tin-foil, Noya replying to every sentence Hinata throws his way with short, irate answers and Hinata getting shorter with him in return. And Tanaka would find it hilarious, watching two short people get short with each other, if it weren't for the fact that it makes walks home feel like tightrope walking.

So it's with a guilty relief that he reads Noya's email telling him not to bother waiting up. Noya is his friend, probably his closest friend, and for a short while in their first year they'd been pubescently dancing around a proper romantic relationship before they both let it fade into something they acknowledge but never talk about. Tanaka loves Noya, he really does, only sometimes something will set him off and he'll spiral into this bitter, clipped version of himself, difficult to talk to when any small thing said to him could turn him against you. And it's exhausting, it's too much to deal with day in, day out, so it's nice to get some breathing space once in a while.

Does that make him a bad person? Does it matter?

He considers messing with the sleeping figure against the school wall before he sets off and then discards the idea as too much of a dick move. He waits for Hinata until the deluge of students slows to a trickle, then with an annoyed huff he decides that he's probably not going to show either. Not for the first time he walks home by himself.

It gives him time to think. Tanaka is no stranger to the outskirts of things. He's grown up from the outside looking in. But Noya is supposed to be his friend, he doesn't want to feel that way around him. The thing is, for someone who talks as much as Noya does, he says very little, and the worse he gets the less he shares. It hurts. Regardless of right or wrong, it hurts.

He kind of wants a cigarette – not that he smokes, Saeko would murder him – but the idea of striking a lonely, poetic figure as he ghosts through the streets of Edo appeals to him, drifting through clouds of smoke like some asshole Romantic. He laughs at the thought. He knows he'd look dumb but that's not really the point. Tanaka does things because he likes the idea of them, not for anyone else.

Like when he moved out of his dad's house. He didn't do it for anyone but himself. He's almost sure of that.

Are Tuesdays the day Saeko gets off work early? Tanaka tilts his head to the sky. He could call her and ask for a ride home, but the day is warm and his head is full of thoughts and frankly he has a better chance of surviving on foot than in a car with Saeko.

He sees someone flying overhead and it makes him think of Noya again. This is getting ridiculous, he feels like a fourteen year old with their first crush. This is different, though. It's like he's been pushed at the edge of a precipice, there's all this empty space in front and behind him and there's no way to tell which way is up. He wants to feel grounded again, to feel sure in his relationship with Noya. Only he can't, because if he even begins to cross carefully Noya-controlled boundaries of acceptable talking points then he's shut out faster than he can blink. You can see the bars go up behind his eyes, the sirens in his head, the quick shut down of his facial expressions. Noya doesn't talk, he collects things to hate about himself.

It has to have something to do with Asahi, it only started this time after the mystery trip that Noya will barely acknowledge let alone talk about. Hinata, too, if the scathing nature of Noya's interaction with him is any clue.

Tanaka puts a stop to his train of thought. There's no point to it, he'll just go over the same things until he's in a worse mood than he was before. It's not his problem, no matter how caught up in his feelings he gets about it, so he lets his thoughts wander away from his friend.

He thinks about school, he thinks about the test he could have passed but which he bombed to prove some point he's forgotten. He thinks about picking up smoking and decides he's too late into his teenage years to start that kind of petty rebellion. He thinks about Hinata's face the other day when he failed his test, and then his incredulity when Tanaka had offered to tutor him. He'd asked Hinata about the whole weird air between them as well but he'd seemed just as clueless as Tanaka. Which isn't surprising, Hinata tends only to notice what he wants to notice; asking him for advice is like asking a toddler.

He's very similar to his sister, actually. Hinata is almost seventeen years old and Tanaka consistently forgets that fact. Except for the times when he's as serious as the grave, when he doesn't seem seventeen but ageless, absolutely fixated on getting what he wants.

Tanaka sighs. He can't even begin to understand that kid, and he can't make heads or tails of Noya either. Maybe it's a Wingback thing.

He needs to get a present for Hinata soon, he thinks as he reaches his front door. He fumbles for his keys. It'll have to be something cheap.

“I'm home,” he calls as he steps into the apartment. He side-steps into the living room and collapses into a chair, rubbing at his face. It's dimly lit and grody and the carpet is a shade of grey he's never seen anywhere else, but it's home and Tanaka is thankful for the calming presence of the walls around him. He wonders how he can scrounge up the money for Hinata's present, then drops the thought when he realises how tiring it'll be. He still has time, anyway.

Saeko emerges from her room dressed in a tank top and sweats. “Hey, babe,” she says, dragging a hand across his head in a hair ruffle for people who don't have any. Tanaka peers through his hands at her. There's something a little off about the smile she gives him, lines of worry are carved into her forehead. “You hungry?” she asks.

Tanaka nods, watching her with narrowed eyes. “What's eating you?” Tanaka has a suspicion and he hopes he's not right.

“Huh?” Saeko says distractedly as she collects various cooking utensils in the tiny kitchen. “What do you mean?”

“You look fucking haggard.”

She makes a weird face. “Where do you learn these words, Ryuu, it's not from me.”

“I don't know, I read?”

“Bad influence, that.” She opens the fridge, peers in, and sighs, pulling out three eggs and a tub of margarine. Tanaka waits until it becomes clear that she's tried to avoid the question.

“So?”

“So what?”

“What's up, why do you look exhausted?”

“Work,” says Saeko shortly. Jesus, why is everyone in his life so emotionally fucking reticent.

“Nah, that's not work tired.”

“Like you would know,” Sako snorts.

He moves to sit at the table and watches her cook silently, tapping his finger against the wood.

“Do you need me to get a job?” he asks.

“No,” is Saeko's immediate reply.

“It's fine, Saeko, I can get one.”

She ducks out the kitchen to whack his head with the spatula. “No. You focus on your studies and get food grades and go to Uni and become a fucking rocket scientist or something, because you're smart even though you hate people know it. Alright?”

Tanaka scowls and leans back in his chair. Saeko struggles with the decrepit gas stove before it lights. The smell of cooking.

He waits until the food is in front of him and his sister is sat opposite before he speaks again. Hesitant, like he's nervous about saying it. Which he is.

“I can ask dad for some money.”

“No,” she answers. She doesn't even wait for him to finish his sentence.

“Saeko -”

“I don't want his damn money. You're pissing me off now, Ryuu. We're fine, I've got this.”

Tanaka feels an indignant heat in his belly at that. Always, always, from the outside looking in.

“He'll help, he wants to help his kids.”

“No he doesn't, he wants to help his sons.” She spits the last word out like an insult.

“Jesus, Saeko, it's just a little help! Admit that you need it!”

“I can help myself!” Saeko shouts. He's not sure why he's doing this, why he's pushing at her like this. “I don't want his money. If you want it so much then go fucking live with him."

“Yeah?” Tanaka leers at his sister. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

She glowers at him and Tanaka feels a vicious rush in his belly which translates itself into a smirk. “Don't fucking say that,” she seethes, suddenly quiet.

“But you would, wouldn't you?” A part of him knows that the anger he's directing at his sister isn't meant for her but for the mess he's found himself in lately. Most of him doesn't care. “I go live with dad and you get a free house and one less mouth to feed, yeah?"

Saeko stands so suddenly that her chair falls backwards onto the floor. Her mouth is set in a pained, furious line, lips turned downwards. Both of them stare daggers at one another. And then Saeko pushes herself away from the table, grabs her keys and jacket with violent motions, and heads towards the door.

“What if I did, Saeko?” he shouts after her. “Get a fucking nuisance out your hair, wouldn't it!” He hears the door slam.

Silence fills the void that Saeko left. It punches at his ears like a fighter, some intangible champion begging for a challenge. So he gives it. He screams as he flips the table over, fills the flat with the sound of yelling and breaking porcelain, then kicks the table until it splinters. He uses both hands to grab his chair and throw it at a wall. Everything must break. Existing is a countdown to falling apart.

Panting, angry, he makes his way to his room, kicking the walls as he goes, his eggs a steaming mess on the living room floor.

 

~*~

 

Tsukishima Kei doesn't like his curtains open no matter what time of day it is. He doesn't even get that much light in his room to begin with, so it's not like he's missing out on much. Perhaps if the window faced the street he'd be happy to sit by it and people watch, but instead the view is a brick wall and some dying ivy and he's convinced himself that he has better things to do than count the cracks in the mortar.

He doesn't, not really. He knows that at a fundamental level, but it's not like he cares too much and he would rather not do anything to jeopardise the inflated sense of self-importance he's managed to cultivate. His time is spent drifting between school and his room, occasionally he moves down to the kitchen for snacks when no one else is around. He scrolls through various social media apps on his phone without ever actually posting anything, taking screenshots of the updates that most annoy him and sending them to Tadashi, who invariably responds how he wants him to. Sometimes he takes selfies which he always deletes, scrunching his face up at the way they draw attention to the holes on his neck and ears.

They're not holes. It seems like a stupid thing to call them to Tsukishima. They're more like hard, black shapes which spiral around his neck and down his back, dot his hands and earlobes, slightly concave and almost entirely unreflective. Everyone calls them holes, though, maybe because of how they absorb light, and it's more trouble than it's worth to go against the flow. So he just calls them holes like any other normal person.

Music slithers its way into his skull through large, white headphones. Game music, soundtrack music, stuff without words to concentrate on. He lolls his head back against the wall and closes his eyes, only to open them again when his dad pulls them off.

“Food,” his dad says in a gentle voice, the smell of cooking still lingering around him. He's a smiler, much to Tsukishima's chagrin. Not the way that Hinata kid in his year is a smiler, all brilliant teeth and optimism, it's more subdued than that. He smiles like he's unsure of himself, walks with a hunch in his back as if he's embarrassed by his height. Tsukishima has based in entire image off of his dad, doing everything he can to go in the opposite direction. Where his dad wears suits, he wears hoodies. His dad gives a watery smile, he doesn't smile at all.

Tsukishima once again puts the muscles in his cheeks to good non-use, nodding once before he pulls his headphones back over his ears. He pretends to be absorbed in his phone until his dad leaves.

There are pros and cons to making an appearance at the dinner table. His mother will definitely make a joke along the lines of 'he finally appears,' and then she'll definitely try and get him talking, which is tiresome. On the other hand, he's fairly sure his stomach is starting to digest itself. The pitiful belly growl which moans its way out of him is what eventually pushes him to go. It's not exactly a willing thing, though.

He keeps his headphones around his neck in case he needs too pull them up and make a quick getaway. Through the stair bannister he can see his mother in the kitchen as she wheels her way from the stove to the table with a plate in her lap. She spots him on the stairs, his body cut into pieces by the wooden bars of the bannister, and makes an exaggerated, shocked face. Tsukishima resists the urge to tut. He knew it.

Tsukishima Yami is as much of a smiler as his father is, but where his dad's smiles are faltering hers are lopsided and mocking. She smiles with her eyes narrowed, like she's caught you doing something you don't want anyone else to know about; she carries herself with a confidence that would make you think she knows more than she should. She pulls laughter out of those around her like teeth. She makes jokes about losing her legs in China and going back to find them. Tsukishima doesn't find them funny.

Her fingers are thick and calloused, her body squareish, made of sharp angles. She moves the plate from her lap to the centre of the dinner table. Her mouth is a diagonal line of mirth as she tracks Tsukishima's movements from the doorway to the seat.

“Who's this?” she asks his father. Tsukishima really does tut this time. He _knew_ it.

“Oh, I just found him upstairs,” his dad replies in a valiant attempt at a joke.

Tsukishima ladles stew into his bowl and refuses to make eye contact with either of them. If it were up to him (and it should be) dinners would be spent in deep, contemplative silence and would be over as soon as he set his chopsticks down. It's never up to him, though, so instead he tries to make it as difficult as possible for everyone else.

Tsukishima is about to finish, looking forward to his bed and his laptop, when he hears his name and tunes into the conversation his parents were having without him.

“What do you think, Kei?” his mother asks. Tsukishima raises an eyebrow.

“Of what?”

“Of getting a job.”

“No, thank you.”

“It would be good for you, you know,” his father chimes in, pointing his chopsticks like a gun at Tsukishima's chest. “Get you out the house.”

“I already get out the house.”

His mother lets a puff of air explode from her nose. “For something other than school.”

“I go to Yamaguchi's sometimes.”

“Hardly. He comes here more than you go there and even then all you do is shut yourself up in your room like always.” Yami folds her arms. “Do you even talk while you're up there? I swear I've heard myself say more to him than you do.”

Tsukishima itches for his headphones.

“How about you just try it,” she says, resting a hand on his arm.

“Maybe.”

“I don't want maybe, I want 'yes mother that sounds like a wonderful idea'.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, bringing his headphones back up and ending the conversation. He feels rather than sees or hears his mother's sigh, which produces an odd feeling of guilty disdain in his chest, one he doesn't care to think too hard about. Instead he pulls his lanky frame away from the table and wanders back up to his room with deliberate steps, nodding once at his mother and father through the gaps in the bannister. Once he's back in bed he opens his laptop and stares at the screen for several long moments, hands positioned crab-like over the keys but not moving, unsure of what to do.

He decides to sleep.

 

~*~

 

“Yachi, could you wash those dishes for me?”

There are all kinds of sounds Yachi makes when she's taken by surprise, which is most of the time by most things. At the sound of Kiyoko's voice, Yachi emits a noise similar to air rushing out of a balloon before she nods vigorously and throws herself at the sink. She stands perpendicular to the counter to her right and the coffee machine to her left. It's not a particularly busy day at the shop (she briefly wonders why everyone calls Kiyoko's shop a shop when it's clearly a cafe, then decides to let it go before she can somehow get nervous about it) so it's safe for her to devote her concentration on soap, water and fighting the blood which rises to her face. Usually she helps Kiyoko with the food, mostly she makes houmous or fattoush (once again she silently thanks her Palestinian father for teaching her the recipes that got her this job) and sometimes, like now, she shoves her arms elbow deep in suds and takes the opportunity to sneak glances at Kiyoko being graceful and perfect and amazing.

Kiyoko smiles at her and angels sing in chorus. “You can move onto the next one if you'd like.”

“Oh!” Yachi looks down at the plate she's been scrubbing for a minute and a half. “Yes, of course, thank you, Shimizu!” Why did she thank her? It had just slipped out and now she sounds weird. Of course, Yachi sounds weird most of the time (she's at least somewhat self-aware) but now she sounds weird in front of _Kiyoko._ Who she knows has a girlfriend and is happily monogamous and probably not in the habit of dating seventeen year old employees but a girl can dream, can't she?

Yachi likes to lose herself in fantasies; her daydreams typically revolve around Kiyoko in some way, maybe she saves Kiyoko from certain death or she helps Kiyoko with something only she can help with, and always they end with a deep embrace, the smell of Kiyoko's hair, the warmth of her body. Maybe... even... a kiss. Oh no, she's blushing again, Yachi is blushing, and now she can't stop thinking about kissing Kiyoko. She has to stop thinking about Kiyoko's small, plump lips and the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles and the smell of Kiyoko's perfume and oh gosh this isn't helping.

The windchime over the shop door tinkles and Yachi makes another sound at the distraction, a drawn out “ _gaahhhh.”_ She looks up, near ready to kiss whoever walked in for jolting her out of her reverie, and sees a tiny Wingback with orange hair shadowed by a terrifying giant in Winter clothing. Hinata shouts her name from near the threshold and Yachi is suddenly much less grateful for the distraction as her eyes alight on the giant behind him, levelling a stinkeye at her which she's liable to have nightmares about.

“Oh, Hinata, it's nice to see you,” says Kiyoko from next to the till. “And who might this be?” There's a calculating edge to her voice.

“Hi, Kiyoko!” Hinata shouts much louder than necessary. He flushes a deep red as several pairs of eyes turn towards him. “Hi, Kiyoko,” he says again, quieter. Yachi doesn't laugh because this is a feeling she deeply understands. The stranger with him isn't so kind.

Hinata whirls on them. “You promised!” he hisses, loud enough for Yachi to hear from across the floor.

“I didn't promise anything.”

“Liar!”

The stranger grabs him by the head. Both Hinata and Yachi yelp and a few of the customers pull back with surprise. “I never said anything,” they say and then turn him back around.

Kiyoko coughs politely (gosh, Yachi wishes she'd cough on her like that. Wait, no). “Perhaps the two of you would like to take a seat?” Hinata has a black look on his face and refuses to look in Kiyoko's direction. He seems to be shaking. Yachi definitely is.

He stomps over to the counter by Yachi and folds his arms on top of it, muttering a dejected “hi, Yachi,” as he clambers into his stool and rests his head on his forearms. The stranger takes the seat next to him, rolling their eyes and grumbling that maybe Hinata should _listen_ next time, then picks up where they left off with the scary suspicious look they aim towards Yachi.

“You're not human, are you?” they ask with narrowed eyes.

“Kageyama, don't be rude!” snaps Hinata at the same time that Yachi makes a very, very small squeal.

“Oh gosh, no!” she gushes. “No, is that the impression I give? Am I too human? Is that something you can be, too human? Oh god. I mean gosh. No, I'm a Daow, sorry. Well not sorry, but don't worry. Not that you are worrying, of course! I wouldn't know! I don't know anything about you! I would, though. As a friend, of course!” She panics slightly. Why isn't anyone stopping her? “No, I mean, you're perfectly safe is what I'm trying to say, and I'm Yachi Hitoka and I guess you're Kageyama... and... hi. Hello.”

Yachi takes a moment to recover her breath. She feels two pairs of eyes staring at her. Then Hinata looks over at Kageyama.

“Introduce yourself, moron.”

“I'm Kageyama,” says Kageyama, looking a little stunned. “Hello.”

Kiyoko is busy tending to a customer and Yachi supposes she ought to do the same. She pulls her hands out of the sink and then the rubber gloves off her hands, makes a small warbling sound to clear her throat and then brings out the pen and pad she keeps in the front pocket of her apron. “What would you like to order?” she asks in a voice so much braver than she feels that she gives herself a small congratulations.

“Well Kageyama doesn't have money and I'm not hungry,” Hinata says. “I thought we could just visit you.”

“I have money,” says Kageyama, digging into their jeans pockets. They're too big for them, faded at the knees.

Hinata seems outraged. “What about before?”

“What _about_ before?”

“Why didn't you have money for the bus?”

“I didn't want to take the bus.”

“It would have been faster!”

“You're annoying. I want a coffee.” They direct this last sentence at Yachi.

“Black!” she shouts back, what was meant to be a question transforming into an exclamation. Kageyama, fortunately, does not seem to notice, because they nod resolutely while Hinata bashes a fist against their arm.

Yachi breathes a sigh of relief as she breaks eye contact to tend to the coffee machine. Hinata and Kageyama continue to argue behind her and Yachi gets a horrifying mental image of her having to break up a physical fight. It's so much easier to imagine these things from safety than have them face to face with you. She could probably handle Hinata if he stayed still, but Kageyama? They could crush her with a look. Oh gosh, she's getting nervous again.

Kiyoko throws vaguely concerned looks her way every so often which has Yachi busily pretending to make coffee. Except wait, she's supposed to actually be doing that, and the mug has been filled for a while now and she hasn't even noticed because she was too busy staring at Kiyoko. And she wasn't even _thinking_ about Kiyoko that time. She's going to die of embarrassment one day, she swears it. Maybe her face will explode with all the blood rushing to it.

She grabs the mug and turns around with it, sliding it in front of Kageyama who is busy arguing with Hinata about who would win in a race. Hinata keeps telling Kageyama that they're too slow to win and Kageyama points out Hinata's tiny little legs. It's funny, Yachi thinks, they both have the same childish intensity when they argue, a pure, earnest drive to win something that can't be won. She wonders if Hinata has finally found someone who can keep up with him.

She tries to imitate Kiyoko's polite cough, prompting Kageyama to look down at the coffee. They take it and carry right on arguing with Hinata, who shoves them forcefully (and only manages to push himself back in his stool).

“Say thank you, that's my friend!”

“What? Oh.” Kageyama spins stiffly in their seat. “Thank you.”

“Oh, no, don't worry, it's literally my job.” Which reminds her. “I'm supposed to be cleaning the dishes!” She whirls in place before remembering she needs money and turning a full 360. “That'll be 350 yen, please.”

Kageyama opens their fist and counts out coins before giving them to Yachi, who immediately bustles off to the cash register. Her next stop is the sink, where she picks her cleaning back up and keeps an eye on the odd couple as she washes. They never seem to stop talking for long; it seems to Yachi more like a clash of personalities than anything else. Hinata will sometimes shoot strange, near inappropriate questions at Kageyama out of the blue which they refuse to answer. Twice their voices raise so loud that people turn to stare and Kiyoko has to shoot a pointed glance in their direction, and each time Hinata goes beet red and Kageyama laughs.

The third time it happens seems to be Hinata's limit. “Oh, like you don't have a crush on Yachi!” He spits. Yachi slips on the tiles and nearly bashes her head against the counter. Kageyama splutters.

“I do _not!_ ”

“You just said she was nice when I asked.”

“Yeah! Nice! Like people can be nice!”

Hinata grins slyly up at them. “You have a crush.”

“No I don't!”

“You have a crush, you have a crush,” Hinata sings, cackling even as Kageyama claps their hand over his mouth. Yachi feels like she should probably say something but the knowledge of any fine motor skills has left her. She watches instead, unsure how to feel. Should she feel offended? Flattered? She only feels nervous but how would someone normal react to this?

Kageyama only lets go when Hinata bashes on his arm with muffled yelling. He takes a deep breath and glares daggers at Kageyama before giggling at their face. Kageyama tuts and looks away.

Their coffee is finished around the same time Yachi is done with the dishes. She turns to them as they shove their stools back.

“Thank you for coming,” she says with a bow.

Hinata nods. “Yeah, thanks.” He turns to Kageyama. “Did you have fun?”

“I suppose.”

“You're such a grump.”

“It was nice, I guess.” Kageyama's voice has quietened to a deep rumble, barely loud enough to hear. Hinata glows.

“Then you should wait for me tomorrow.” Yachi knows Hinata well enough to hear that subtle wavering in his voice, the unacknowledged question of his sentence. “We'll come again.”

Kageyama doesn't reply. They turn to look at Yachi.

“Thank you,” they say, civilly.

“Oh no, thank you!” Yachi replies. “Please come again. I'll see you at school tomorrow, Hinata.”

“Bye Yachi!”

She watches them go, still taking verbal jabs at one another. The windchime tinkles again on their way out. Kiyoko glides over.

“Kageyama?” she asks lightly. That calculating look is back. “They seemed nice.”

“Oh yes,” Yachi replies. “I'm sure they were.”

 

~*~

 

Kuro left an hour ago, right before Kenma's mother made her way through the door. It had been nice. Bothersome, as anything involving Kuro usually is, but nice. He'd spent most of his stay bouncing off the walls and waving his phone in Kenma's face, ecstatic and giggly. But it made Kenma smile, so he wouldn't begrudge him for it.

What made him smile less were the incessant emails he had been getting from Kuro since.

 

_17:32_

_**From: Kuro** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_Bokuto's coming back!!_

 

 

_**To: Kuro** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_You mentioned._

 

 

_17:38_

_**From: Kuro** _

_Re: (no subject)_

 

_He's coming back Kenma!!!_

 

 

_**To: Kuro** _

_Re:(no subject)_

 

_Yep._

 

He had stopped answering then, which hadn't stopped Kuro from emailing him, repeating the same message in different words. His phone buzzes in his hand again and Kenma groans. In front of him is the word BACK in capital letters and when Kenma checks the last few messages the last three are BOKUTO, IS and COMING respectively. He's going to have to do something about this.

With a wistful look Kenma closes his _Animal Crossing_ app, moves to his bedroom, opens his games drawer and swaps his phone for his 3DS. He enters the _Animal Crossing_ cartridge and turns it on _._ Satiated, he makes his way back to the living room, bare feet slapping against hardwood floor.

His parents get in late every day; they commute to and from Saitama, both advisors at the ministry of defence in the capitol, his father junior to his mother. When they do arrive, often at different times, they hole themselves up in their shared study.

Mostly they're silent, a muttered “could you pass me that?” or the like all that's said between them. Sometimes, though, they whisper in the confines of their room, neither of them fully aware of how much Kenma can hear if he stands just right outside the door. That's the whispering which Kenma picks up on now, which makes him pause as he walks. He churns it over in his head, then tiptoes silently to his eavesdropping spot.

He still isn't sure why he does this. Maybe it's a simple matter of curiosity, if someone is saying something you're clearly not meant to know then of course you'll want to hear it. Except if he thinks deeply enough about it, Kenma realises he doesn't care about the information as much as he cares about knowing it. Nothing they say will ever dramatically affect his life. It's just another titbit to play with.

“ _...the Battlers investigating?”_ That's his father. Everything about him is something to forget.

“ _Yes, of course, but this isn't a priority.”_ His mother. Tall, chubby, a talented talker.

“ _Sounds like a priority to me.”_

“ _To_ you. _”_

“ _It isn't to you?”_

“ _Don't say that. They were my friends too.”_

Silence. Kenma holds his breath.

“ _More could be done,”_ his father eventually grumbles.

“ _For what? One kid with a rumour?”_

“ _Wakatoshi said they knew each other for years.”_

“ _No, the kid said that and Wakatoshi reported it.”_ Shuffling. The sound of a moving body. His mother's voice, softer. _“The city is huge, you could throw a stone from here and it would land on the outskirts. It would be a waste of resources to search it all, you know that. We can only wait and hope.”_

There's sighing. Then a sad little _“I know. I love you.”_

“ _I love you too.”_

Kenma takes that as his cue to leave. He flips his game back open and logs the conversation he heard somewhere away in his brain, letting it fade from his consciousness. Interesting, interesting.

 

~*~

 

The car is running out of gas by the time Saeko gets home. She makes a mental note to refill it before work tomorrow. Then she makes a mental note to tell Ryuu to tell the kids to get here early tomorrow. Then she groans and lets her head flop forward onto the steering wheel.

She's going to have to call in a favour. An hour long drive and it's still the only concrete thing she can come up with. Well, if it'll help, it it'll keep Ryuu around longer, then fine, she can deal with that.

She slams the door a touch too hard on her way out. She's still angry, but it's a dull, throbbing thing rather than the fire it had been before. The light is stuck between afternoon and evening, casting long shadows on the pavement. She watches some kid fly above her as she takes out her keys (slowly, without enthusiasm, unhappy about having to enter the dragon's den but unequivocal about her need to do so) then double takes when she recognises pitch black wings.

Well that's one problem sorted.

“Hinata! Oi, Hinata!” she yells skyward. “Get down here for a sec!”

He drops to the ground nearby with a smile so wide it's almost offensive. “Good day, huh?”

“Yeah!” Hinata nods enthusiastically, bounding towards her. “Kageyama and I got coffee.”

“Oh, there's a Kageyama? With coffee?”

He scrunches his face. “It's not like that.”

“Sure, I believe you. Hey, tell Noya you two have to be early tomorrow, yeah?” His smile disappears instantly. “God, what now?”

“I'm not talking to Noya.”

Saeko sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose. She wonders if this has anything to do with Ryuu. “Well talk to him now, unless you wanna walk. Or fly, I guess.”

“Do I have to?”

“Yes, dammit, you're nearly grown.”

“Nearly.”

“Close enough I'm not gonna let you be a pain in my ass.”

“Fine, whatever!” Hinata folds his arms like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “I'll tell stupid Noya about being stupid early.”

“Good.” She pushes him towards his home. Hinata is sweet but he's a bit much at the moment. “Hop to.”

Saeko marvels every time she touches him. Noya, too. They're both so light, fragile even, both so tempting to manhandle. She feels like she could break him if she squeezed too hard, and she wonders how much trust Hinata must have to let her shove at him like that. He's a tactile person, he explores his world through touch and by being touched, and he seems to have quashed that Wingback instinct not to let people he doesn't know handle him. The first time they'd met Hinata had damn near jumped into her arms. The first time she'd met Noya he hadn't even shaken her hand, even though he smiled and laughed with her.

She watches Hinata's back get smaller as he goes. He's such a weird kid.

Her hand is flat against the door, keys unturned in the lock. With a strength of will she never remembers she has until she uses it, Saeko makes her way to the apartment she shares with her little brother. At the front door with the faded metal six on it, she pauses to take a deep breath, suddenly nervous, suddenly a little girl again. But it's no use to dwell. She pushes forward.

The table, doing its best to stay upright despite the split down its middle, is the first thing she sees. There's a dark stain on the living room carpet and a chair missing a leg is propped up against a wall. The room soaks in an air of broken despondency. And she sighs, deep from her stomach.

“I'm home,” she calls loudly into the dark. Met with silence. Of course she hadn't expected this to be easy, nothing is, but she had hoped.

She steps carefully to Ryuu's door, eyeing the scrawled “DO NOT FUCKING DISTURB” sign on the front. Her fist taps against the wood three times.

“Hey, Ryuu?” she says softly. No answer. “Ryuu, I'm coming in now.” She waits a little longer, giving him a chance to tell her to fuck off before opening the door.

The curtains are closed. He's curled up into a ball of duvet covers and limbs on his bed, his head facing away from her. Saeko kicks at a pair of shorts. “When are you gonna clean this place up, huh?” she says to have something to say. “It's a mess in here.” Ryuu huddles deeper into his pile.

How is she supposed to do this? If mum were around she'd know exactly what to do. But she's not, it's just Saeko. “You don't have to worry about money, Ryuu,” she whispers into the quiet. “I told you I've got it and I do. Trust me.”

He doesn't answer. This isn't something she'd ever counted on; she's not grown up enough to be raising a kid, even if that kid is close to adulthood himself. She had expected unrestrained independence, a life of her own separate from the unfulfillable demands of her father. And now here she is, fucking not just herself over but her brother, too. It's too much. A fleeting, traitorous thought crosses her mind, that maybe it _would_ be better if he went back to dad and got raised by someone who knows that they're doing, but she crushes it. Tanaka Saeko's father knows as much about raising kids as she does, especially kids like them. And if anyone's going to fuck her little brother up, it's going to be her.

God, is she selfish? Is she a bad person?

“You're not a nuisance,” she says, moving to stroke the lump she assumes is Ryuu's shoulder. “Never.”

He doesn't answer and Saeko pretends not to be hurt. All he needs is time. Ryuu doesn't stew, he's her little brother, he doesn't know how to stay down. A little time, that's all he needs, a few hours alone. With careful steps she exits his room, closing the door softly behind her.

It's getting late. She ought to make dinner but she forgot to buy groceries and there's nothing in the fridge. She dials the number to a fast food place into her phone, already lamenting the missing digits in her bank account. She hopes Ryuu eats. He's a growing boy.

 

~*~

 

Hinata Hikari is the most permanently frazzled woman Noya has ever met; even dressed up nice for a date she emits an aura of accepting frustration. Watching Natsu as Mrs Hinata tries to pull her little fingers from her dress is in equal parts endearing and funny, Mrs Hinata trying to talk as Natsu's fingers seem to multiply.

“I'm sorry, Nishinoya,” she says as she wrestles another tiny digit from her collar. “Shouyou was supposed to be here and I don't mean to dump her on you, but I'm already late and I don't trust anyone else. Unless your mother is in...?” she trails off leadingly. Noya shakes his head no as he opens his arms for Natsu, who jumps in without touching the floor. Mrs Hinata sighs. “Okay, well just shove her at Shouyou when he turns up. You know where everything is, right? I'll pay you when I'm back, sorry for the trouble.”

She says all this as she backs away from him to the door, propped open with a weighted, knitted chicken. She checks her reflection, smoothing down a lock of orange hair and a few black feathers.

Noya grins. It's fake but she won't notice. “Sure thing. Natsu is fun anyway, it's no trouble.” Mrs Hinata's laugh is hard and takes Noya by surprise, and if he didn't know any better he'd say the look she levels at him teeters on the wrong edge of condescending.

He plans on saying as much as five words to Hinata when he gets here, just long enough to pass him the baby and get the hell out. He doesn't want to be here, he wants to be in bed in his underwear watching comedies and not laughing. If it weren't for the payment and the harried look in Mrs Hinata's eyes he would have skipped out altogether. Except he's not a selfish little prick, unlike some people.

“Okay,” says Mrs Hinata, picking her purse up and snapping it shut. “Call me if there's any trouble. And Natsu,” she turns a stern glare towards her daughter. “Be good for Nishinoya.”

Natsu shakes her head. “His name is Noya.”

“They're both my name, actually.” He says it as gently as he can manage, a plastic smile on his face.

“No,” Natsu replies instantly. “You're wrong. It's Noya.” She starts pulling at the buttons on the school shirt Noya has yet to change out of. Mrs Hinata mumbles something which Noya doesn't catch, gives Natsu a kiss on the forehead and Noya a kiss on the cheek, then leaves with a wave. Noya's shoulders slump. He doesn't want to do this.

“What do you wanna do? I wanna do lego,” Natsu says in that high, demanding voice of hers.

“Lego sounds fun.”

“Okay, put me down.” Noya obeys, watching as she scampers off to her room and returns with an ice cream tub full of plastic bricks. She walks with it held over her head like a trophy, a ridiculously serious expression on her face. It reminds him of Hinata.

She empties the tub unceremoniously onto the floor. Noya winces at the cacophony it produces. He surreptitiously slips on a pair of shoes by the door.

When he goes to sit by her, Natsu is connecting bricks at random, creating a multi-coloured monstrosity that grows upwards.

“What are you building?”

“A tower.”

“Huh.” Noya prods at it and Natsu squeals, slapping his hand away. “Looks more like a spaceship to me.”

“It's a tower if I say it is.” Noya laughs. “Don't laugh at me! Why do grown-ups always laugh when I say things.”

Noya has not once in his life considered himself a grown-up, but he thinks explaining his late adolescent status to Natsu may go over her head. He doesn't really get it himself, to be honest. He prods her on the nose instead. “Because you're weird.”

“ _You're_ weird.”

“Yeah, course I am.” He shoots two finger guns at her. “Being weird is cool.”

“Oh.” Natsu looks down at the lego version of Cthulu she's made. “Do you want a tour? This is the front and this is the back and the door is here and this is where Barbie lives with Spongebob. They're married.” Natsu points at random parts of her building as she talks, completely absorbed in her own world. He wonders if Mrs Hinata was ever this strange when she was Natsu's age. He knows Hinata was, even if they didn't know each other properly back then. They were the only kids around the same age in the commune, they played together from time to time. They didn't particularly like each other, Hinata was weird and Noya was a crybaby, but you make do with what you have.

He shouldn't think about this, it'll only bum him out more.

“Where's your mum?” Natsu asks, digging around in the mess of lego blocks.

Noya shrugs. “She's at work. She's an officer in the Maritime Self-Defence Force so she's really busy.” He doesn't bother to hide the pride in his voice.

“So?”

“What do you mean so?” Noya says too sharply. He sits back, avoiding Natsu's hurt gaze. “I mean, she has things to do so she can't be here.”

“Does she kill people?”

“No?” She's an administrative officer, though she hadn't always been.

“That's what soldiers do, though.”

“Well yeah, but it's to protect us.”

“From what?”

“From the bad guys.”

“Are there bad guys in Japan?”

“No.”

“Then why are there soldiers?”

He is absolutely not in the proper mindset to explain the social construct of the military to this child, but he'll give it a shot anyway. It's amazing how this kid can steer a conversation, he'll give her that, and talking about this means not thinking about anything else.

“Okay, so... When some countries are angry at other countries, they go to war, right? Like America is angry at China right now, and so are we because America is our friend. You know about that?” Natsu nods blankly and Noya carries on regardless. “So we send people over to protect our country from the angry guys.”

Natsu's face stays blank for a long moment and then abruptly scrunches in on itself. “I don't get it. Why are they bad, then?”

“You don't have to be bad to be dangerous, Natsu.”

“I still don't get it. You said there were bad guys.”

Noya sighs. “You'll get it when you're older.”

“I want to get it _now._ ”

He really, really doesn't want to be on the receiving end of a bona-fide tantrum right now, so Noya hurriedly asks if she wants ice cream. Not a subtle change of subject but then again Natsu is four. Her face immediately brightens, arms flinging up as she says “yes,” and draws out the 's' as long as it will go. Capricious little monster, that's what she is. Noya might even be smiling.

He ruffles her hair as he walks past her to the kitchen, pulling a plastic bowl from the cupboard and scooping out a spoonful of ice cream from the tub in the freezer. He's about to throw the spoon in the sink when he hears the front door open and shut, along with Natsu's excited scream of “Hinata!”

“Call me Shouyou, Natsu,” comes Hinata's disembodied voice. Noya freezes.

He seriously considers making a break for it through the window, but it's too small to squeeze through. The only escape route is back the way he came and he's suddenly woefully unprepared to face Hinata.

Everything is so much. Being here is too much and he doesn't want to deal with it. Hinata will accost him and he won't have a clue. He'll _demand_ to know. He'll push and push, he'll take Noya like a plaything and twist him up until he gets the answers he wants, and then he'll look at Noya like it's his own fault he's upset. That's how Hinata works.

“Noya,” comes his voice by the door. This is too much. Noya turns his head slightly to show that he's listening. “Saeko says we have to be early tomorrow.” Noya nods. He lets silence fall like mourning fog.

Hinata has turned on the TV in the front room. Natsu's giggles drift lazily between them.

“Why are you angry at me?” Hinata asks. “What did I do?”

Amazing, how he can't even begin to think that it might not be about him. He's the centre of his own little universe, he can't even fathom that people have lives away from him, that he might only be one small facet of a much bigger thing. For Hinata, people stop existing when they're no longer around him. Almost seventeen and yet to learn the concept of object permanence.

God, Noya is bitter. He lets a wave of self-hatred wash over him, comforting in its familiarity. Hinata's not like that, Noya knows. That's just how he acts.

What's the difference?

When they were kids, after they became friends, Hinata would hold Noya's hand when he cried and smile for him. He would duck his head down and grin wide and he'd say “I'm never letting you go. If you run off, I'll find you, and then I'll hold both your hands until you feel better.”

How many times was he crying because of Hinata? Had he ever actually run off?

“Noya. Answer me. Please.”

If he ran off now, would Hinata follow? Would he find his stranger instead?

Should he test it?

“Is this about Asahi?”

Something snaps. Noya's tenuous hold on calm breaks. He slams the metal spoon on the counter, still sticky with ice cream. He spins violently to face Hinata.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, Shouyou.”

Hinata hisses at him, gesturing towards the front room where Natsu continues to giggle.

“I'm just asking,” he says, closing the door.

“Well don't.”

“Why are you so touchy? Did he hurt you? Should I beat him up?”

“Jesus, stay out of it!” Noya scream-whispers. “It's none of your damn business!”

“Did he? I'll go, Noya, I swear.”

“Why don't you ever fucking _listen._ Why doesn't anyone ever fucking _listen_ to a damn word I say? I don't _want_ you to go, I want you to _listen_ to me instead of saying _stupid_ shit all the time or messing with your new fucking _boyfriend!_ ”

Hinata bristles. “They're not a boy! And they're not my boyfriend!”

They speak to each other in hushed, jagged tones, Noya leaning forward with the counter at his back, sharp teeth bared. He wants to fight him, he wants to punch or scratch him or something. This is too much.

“Say sorry,” Hinata whispers, angry.

“Sorry? For what? _You_ say sorry.”

“For calling Kageyama a boy. Say sorry to them.”

Noya's mind goes blank, genuinely boggled. Hinata is ignoring him again. Noya comes close to actually hating him.

“You don't give a flying fuck, do you Hinata?” Noya is shaking. He might even be starting to cry. Of course he is, because why wouldn't the universe conspire to humiliate him like this. Hinata's eyes widen, his hand reaches out but Noya slaps it away. “You only listen to me when it suits you, you only care when you need to. You'd rather I say sorry to someone who's _not even here_ for a dumb comment I made because I'm _stupid_ and don't _think_ than look me in the eye and tell me you heard me.” Noya grabs at his face, resists the urge to let his claws sink into his skin. He's really crying now. “This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid,” he heaves. “I'm going home.”

Noya tries not to let Hinata see his face as he pushes past him and out the door. He doesn't reply to Natsu's call. He thanks God for the small miracle of seeing no one on his way up the building's stairs.

He makes very little sound until he reaches his bed and buries his face in his pillows. Then he makes less sound as he tries to stifle his sobs, rolled into a ball, claws digging into his arms.

This is too much. He just wants to sleep.

 

~*~

 

A soft rustling outside Noya's bedroom door. The _schwiff_ of paper sliding on carpet. Enough light to see the words “I'm sorry” written in carefully inked characters across heavy card. He doesn't bother getting up.

 

~*~

 

I found you, the first thing Hinata says, loud and relieved and very close to tears. Noya sits curled up by a dumpster, scrubs at his face with bruised arms, bruised hands. Hinata clutches a colouring book, one of those adult ones which he stole from his mum. Holds it out like a peace offering. He forgot the pencils, but that's okay. He edges closer, closer, until he's right next to Noya, sniffling and wiping away tears. Hinata folds his hand into Noya's. Noya sobs harder. It's okay, Noya, it's okay, Hinata says. I'll hold your hand forever if you want. And don't even think about running away, because I'll find you and then I'll hold both your hands so you can't escape. Hinata eyes Noya's arms. Did he do that to you? Noya blubbers, but he doesn't have to answer. Hinata grips tighter. They stay together until the sun sets.

 

~*~

 

Both the dark skinned boy with freckles and Kiyoko turn in his direction as Suga opens the door to the shop. Suga frowns at Kiyoko, who shrugs almost imperceptibly.

The boy checks his watch. “Oh!” he says. “I've kept you too long. Thank you, I'll be back tomorrow.” He bows and departs with a sweet smile.

“What was that about?” Suga asks as he heads towards the counter, jerking a thumb over his shoulder.

“He was asking about a job.”

Suga frowns again. “You know he's human, right?”

“Oh, it wasn't for him.” She pulls a mug from the wall and sets it on the coffee machine. “He has a monster friend looking for one.”

Suga nods, distractedly. Daichi had come by the graveyard again today and it's still on his mind. It's become a recurring thing, in a way. Every day Suga waits until five, except for Thursdays (Daichi's day off) and Sundays (Suga's day off), then sits on a bench with a sandwich. When Daichi arrives, he takes the seat next to him and they talk. Always inconsequential stuff, little things that make them both laugh. It's not too different from their conversations via email, to be honest, a lilting back and forth that leaves Suga glowing. It's nice.

Nice, but not perfect. He wonders if he'll have to be the one to ask Daichi for a proper date; after all, Daichi was the one who approached him first (even if he did have Suga's help). But Suga's not used to making any kind of move, usually he waits until things fall into place and if they don't, well, let bygones be bygones.

For some reason, though, he really wants that date.

“I'm in love, Kiyoko,” he breathes.

“No you're not.”

“I'm getting there.”

Kiyoko's eyelids flutter like she's trying to stop her eyes from rolling and not quite achieving it. She thrusts Suga's coffee at him, smiling ever so slightly when some of the searing hot liquid plops out onto his thumb and he hisses.

“How are you and Michimiya, by the way?"

“Good,” Kiyoko replies, shortly but not unkindly. She's a private person, almost to the point of ridiculousness. Suga does his best to respect that.

“And how's Hitoka?”

“She's fine. That reminds me, actually.” Suga waits but Kiyoko says nothing else. She loves doing this, getting him to play along to her tune. She treats conversations like a chess game, she doesn't so much speak as make her move.

He pretends not to be interested in whatever Yachi's name reminds her of, but Kiyoko doesn't crack. She sits in silence, drinking her own half gone cup of tea. Suga swallows his pride. It was never a game he was going to win anyway.

“What does it remind you of, Kiyoko?”

She smiles softly. “Hinata and his friend came today, to see Yachi. Their name is Kageyama.” Suga's eyebrows rise slowly and steadily into his hairline.

“The one who pushed me? They're Kageyama?”

“Yes. Apparently they seem nice.”

“Huh.” Suga fiddles with the handle of his mug, chin rested on his hand as he gazes vacantly past Kiyoko. There's something that feels invasive about the knowledge that they had been here. “There's something off about them, you know. Not in a bad way. Just... off.” He hopes they never meet again, otherwise Suga may be tempted to find out what.

Kiyoko waits expectantly. Suga catches her eye and shrugs.

“I can't really explain. The whispers have never done that to me before, what they did around them.” He had already explained the loudness of Kageyama's presence, the way they made the whispers soar into something wild. “I don't know. Off, that's all I can say.”

Kiyoko nods once, her face taking on that uncanny look which means she's taken what Suga said and doing something with it, comparing it to other memories in the roladex of her brain.

The light dyes the shop in vivid yellows, tumbling into evening as they sit in companionable silence. If Suga is still, if he closes his eyes and ignores the whispers, he can hear the shop breathing. It has slow, slow breaths, like something massive asleep.

He smiles. “Have I told you I'm in love?”

She really does roll her eyes this time. “You may have mentioned it, yes.”

“He's really nice.”

“Mmm.”

“And handsome.”

“Mmhmm. I'm a lesbian.”

“He can probably cook really well too.”

“I'm still a lesbian.”

“Kiyoko!” Suga says, pushing at her arm. “Let me gush!”

“I'll think about it,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. Shimizu Kiyoko is hard to read, Suga knows that better than anyone. However, by virtue of being Suga and therefore one of Kiyoko's closest friends, he can just about manage it. He eyes the crease between her eyebrows, the stiff set of her shoulders.

A thought strikes him. “Wait.” He grins wide. “Do you disapprove?”

“You're an adult Suga. Barely, but you can make your own decisions.”

“I'm not hearing a no.”

Kiyoko sighs and sets down her cup with a quiet _thunk._ “I just think,” she starts, and Suga resists the urge to groan, “that you're pinning a lot of hope on a man who walked into your life and said 'monsters are okay, I guess'. He's not going to be your prince Charming, Suga. You're making him less human than he is.”

“You know I'm kidding about being in love, right?”

“But you aren't, otherwise you wouldn't say it.” Kiyoko shakes her head. “You _want_ to be in love, and now you've found someone who you think you like and who you barely know. It's not going to be what you expect. I really don't want to see you get hurt, Suga.”

He huffs. “Everyone gets like that when they meet someone. You used to get this vapid look on your face for months after you got with Michimiya.”

“We knew each other for a long time before then. And everyone gets hurt, too.” She spreads her arms wide on the table. “I'm only trying to minimise the risks.”

Suga knocks his head against the counter and then pouts up at his friend. It's not like he goes looking for risks, but if one comes alone with such a high reward then who is he not to take it? Daichi is nice. He's funny and easy to talk to and Suga could probably spend hours with him. No matter what happens, that will always be something that was true, once.

“I don't think he'll hurt me. Not too bad, anyway.”

“But he might. What if you tell him what you are and he reacts badly? What if he decides he's bored of you? What if he's only seeing you because he has a monster kink?” Kiyoko purses her lips. “I don't mean to depress you, but you should be careful.”

“I'm not going to tell him,” Suga says, hurt and trying his best not to show it. “Not yet. We haven't even gone on a proper date.” He leans forward, couching his head on his crossed arms. “You know what I think? I think you're jealous I have a man.”

Kiyoko slaps his head softly. “You don't have a man if you haven't had a date and I'm _still_ an intense lesbian.” Her mouth puckers and moves to the side of her face as she thinks. “Bring him here.”

“Whu?” Suga replies cleverly.

“For your date, ask him to come here. I'll give you a free coffee.”

“Seriously?”

“One. One free coffee. For him. You pay.”

It's honestly more than he had expected, but he still makes a show of trying to convince her for a free sandwich as well. Kiyoko tells him to quiet down or she'll charge double instead.

The rest of their time spent together is silent except for a few muttered exchanges here and there. They allow the light to burn more vivid and then fade, watch the sun fall asleep together. He leaves content, for the most part, picking his way through the twilight like a little star, his muscles sore from work, a smile on his face. He looks forward to good dreams.

 

~*~

 

Noya hadn't seemed irritated today, which is a relief. He hadn't actually seemed much of anything, which is less of a relief. From the moment he had arrived at Tanaka's his hands had hardly left his pockets, his back stayed slumped as he walked and his face persisted in a slack, blank expression. From morning to afternoon, even throughout their classes, he had said barely anything. Screaming Noya, Noya who bounces and laughs and jumps onto everything, except when he gets like this. He'd said near to nothing.

On the plus side, he doesn't seem to be avoiding Hinata anymore. It was actually kind of nerve racking when Hinata had offered a watery smile in the car which Noya hadn't returned. But then again, Noya hadn't really smiled all day, and it seemed to be enough to reach some kind of truce. Hinata stayed stuck by Noya's side until they reached the school, even waiting with him by their second year homeroom until the bell rung, never really saying anything, just there, attempting to be a comfortable presence. It was then that Noya had said the longest sentence he'd said all day.

“We'll be okay.”

Tanaka hadn't bothered to hide his sigh of relief; he may even have played it up a little, and Hinata's grin bordered on terrifying with how many teeth it showed. Noya really did smile then. A little tired, a little sad, but there.

And now Hinata continues to stick at his side like grass seeds to fabric; he even stays rooted there when he sees his stranger standing sullenly by the gate, chin tucked into their scarf. Noya's expression clouds over further, he gives a little eye roll to no one in particular, but otherwise he stays as silent as ever, hands fisted deep into his pockets.

Tanaka bumps his shoulder into Noya's while Hinata screams “you came, you came!” and his stranger mutters “you asked me to, it's not weird,” back at him. It's not much, a sign that he's there, but Noya throws an exhausted smirk over his shoulder at him anyway, bringing his smile tally for the day up to two. Tanaka takes it as a win.

“Guys! This is Kageyama,” Hinata says, gesturing towards his stranger. He still won't move from his spot next to Noya, even with Kageyama looming awkwardly three paces in front of him. “Kageyama, you know Noya, Nishinoya Yuu, and this is Tanaka Ryuunosuke.” Hinata swallows and darts his eyes towards Tanaka, who squints at the stare Kageyama gives him. “Tanaka is human. Don't freak out! He's super cool, his sister gives us a lift to school in the morning.” Tanaka wonders if his coolest trait really is his sister. A guilty churning starts in his stomach and he tries to stop thinking about it.

He frowns when Kageyama takes two very quick steps away from him, like he's scared of Tanaka. People being scared due to any part of his identity isn't new, usually he tries to laugh it off, but scared because he's a human? That's something he's never experienced before.

Tanaka sniffs. Well, if they want to be scared of humans that's their prerogative. He thinks back to his history lessons. It might even be a fair enough assessment, to be honest.

“Can we go now?” they ask, not-so-subtly putting both Wingbacks between Tanaka and themself. Hinata opens his mouth to reply and then wilts.

“I dunno.” He turns to Noya, who doesn't look at him, and then to Tanaka. “Do you guys want to go to Shimizu's shop?”

That sounds like a fantastic idea to Tanaka. He's pretty sure he'd beg to be trodden on by Shimizu's shoe; she doesn't even have to be wearing it.

Plus, he doesn't want to go home. Not yet.

“We don't have to if you don't want,” Hinata says, more to Noya than to Tanaka.

Noya shrugs listlessly. “I'm tired.”

“Come on, dude.” Tanaka says. “For a little while. It'll be fun.” He wants to see proper Noya again, the one who would have done something ludicrous with him at the sound of Kiyoko's name.

He gets like this, everyone knows it. Hardly ever this bad, but it happens. Sometimes he's curt and abrasive for a day or two, sometimes he spends weeks holed up in his room. Sometimes he does everything he usually does, but his eyes stay glassy when he smiles, or he leaps at Tanaka only when he thinks its weird not to, or his jokes come out a little too stilted. Those times last the longest.

“I'll buy you a coffee that Shimizu made.”

Noya says nothing.

“A coffee she made, Noya,” Tanaka repeats. “With her own perfectly formed hands. Coffee of the fucking gods, Yuu.”

Who is he doing this for? Is it Noya or himself? Maybe it's both. Maybe it doesn't matter.

Noya tries to hide a smile but Tanaka sees it. He lets go of a very long breath. “Yeah, okay. For a little.”

Tanaka whoops. Hinata cheers. Kageyama frowns at them with wide, bewildered eyes.

Kiyoko's shop is close enough to walk to comfortably. Hinata spends his time sandwiched between Noya and Kageyama, absorbing himself in casual bickering with his stranger until he very suddenly seems to remember Noya is there. Each time he turns his head so fast Tanaka is consistently surprised he doesn't give himself whiplash, asking a question or saying “right, Noya?” and getting wordless sounds in return. It happens less and less as they continue on their walk, not so much because Hinata takes the hint but because he seems to forget about Tanaka and Noya altogether, choosing instead to fire questions at Kageyama with a machine gun's tenacity. Or argue, the two never seem to be far away from an argument. Tanaka sees Noya's shoulders slump in relief. They make it to the shop without incident.

Of course it couldn't last.

Windchimes announce their arrival. Several sets of eyes turn towards their group, a couple on the sofa – one a dark skinned brown kid with freckles and the other a Wall, blonde, tall and pissed – who seem to have been talking earnestly stop their conversation mid-word to take a look. Behind the counter Kiyoko assesses them with calm eyes which rove over them like machines, pausing at each face. When they reach Noya they widen slightly, her lips press together and her eyes flick to the man in front of her so quickly Tanaka would have thought he imagined it.

Except he knows he didn't, because that man is Azumane Asahi. Long face and long hair, countenance set to a harrowed look of worry. He stares at Noya like he's staring at a guillotine.

“Yuu -” he begins to say. It's all he has a chance to get out before Noya turns on his heel and walks straight back out the door. Tanaka mutters a quiet _crap_ under his breath. He still doesn't know what the deal is between them and he knows better than to pry. He hopes Asahi didn't do anything to deserve Tanaka's fist to his face. He'd do it, for Noya, but it would be like kicking a very powerful puppy.

“Noya!” Hinata shouts, going to run after him. Tanaka grabs his arm and pulls him back gently. Hinata stumbles.

“I think he wants to be alone, Hinata.” He's probably taken off flying by now, too.

“He's hurting!”

Tanaka's voice takes on a dangerous edge. “Leave it.”

He's aware of their audience so he keeps his voice low, tries to throw Hinata a hint with a slight widening of his eyes and a subtle nod towards Asahi. For a terrifying if unsurprising second Hinata doesn't seem to get it, mouth opening wide, but then his face goes strange, hurtles through emotions, and his jaw clenches shut once more.

Asahi himself mutters to Kiyoko on the other side of the room and then pulls himself up. He leaves without saying anything.

It's so quiet.

And then the blonde kid lets out a long, slow “wow.”

“Tsukki!” his friend says, appalled.

“What drama. Should I applaud?” Tanaka is absolutely ready to fight this kid right now, who cares if Walls can harden. This is the righteous fist of friendship right here and it can break through anything.

The kid's friend puts both hands over his face and moans like a ghost.

“Thank you Shimizu, it was lovely,” the Wall says, getting up . “Dinner and a show. Glad I could come. I don't plan to be back, but I'll say good things. Come on, Yamaguchi.” He doesn't turn back as he leaves his friend stammering at the exit.

“I'm so, so sorry,” says the other kid, human or psychic judging by the look of him. He bows deeply at Tanaka's group. “He's really upset right now, please forgive him.” And then he's off like a shot, pushing himself out the door and yelling “Tsukki! Come back!”

Quiet again. Tanaka sighs from the very depth of his being. He's too young to feel this old.

Kageyama clears their throat. “What happened?” they ask. _Hoo boy_ , Tanaka thinks, _I wish I knew._

 

_~*~_

 

Utterly stupid. Utterly, inanely, ridiculously, stupefyingly stupid, that's what this has been. A complete waste of time and energy he could have spent doing something that wasn't this. Utterly, awfully stupid.

Tsukishima is angry. He's angry with his mother for urging him to get a job, he's angry at Tadashi for going along with her plan, he's angry at them both for _conspiring_ together (he thinks back to his mother's jibe about talking more to Tadashi than he does and wonders if she might just have a point) and he's angry at himself for thinking this could have been anything other than the colossal waste of limited resources that it was.

“Tsukki, wait!” Tsukishima really wishes he wouldn't call him that so loudly in public, but it's not like he's going to turn around and say anything to him. “Tsukki! Please don't hate me, I thought it would be good for you,” Tadashi says, finally catching up and fighting for breath.

“Going behind my back and applying me for a job I don't want? Yes, that sound like exactly what I need.” He knew something was up the moment Tadashi appeared at his house. Or maybe it was when his mother all but pushed him out the door, that knowing, diagonal smile on her face. Or it might have been when Tadashi pulled him to “this great cafe I know, you'll love it” or when the owner had looked him in the eye and said “Ah, you must be Tsukishima.”

Bothersome, that's what this is. Tsukishima doesn't let up on his pace as Tadashi catches his breath; he walks faster, putting his long legs to passive-aggressive use. He can feel the embers of his rage beginning to die and honestly he doesn't have the energy to fan them back to life. All he wants is to go home and forget about this and let everything go back to normal. What's the use in rocking the boat if you're the only one in it?

“It won't be that bad. You might even have fun! Shimizu seemed really nice.”

Tsukishima stops suddenly, taking a sadistic pleasure in the way Tadashi stumbles forward. Then he starts up at his break-neck walking pace again.

“I'm sorry, Tsukki. But I was talking to your mum and I really think this might help you.”

Tsukishima sniffs. His own mother. “Would you like to do anything else to help? You can do my homework for me if you want, Yamaguchi, that really _would_ help me out.” He's only half-joking. Tsukishima is willing to give up top tier grades for a few more hours peace and quiet.

“Don't be like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like _that,_ Tsukki!” Tadashi waves his arms at Tsukishima, gesturing to all of him. “You'd be able to get out the house and earn money and you'd... I don't know, it might help you forget things.”

This time Tsukishima slows gradually to a halt as his anger reignites. Tiresome.

“Forget what.”

Tadashi rubs his neck. “Just things.”

“I don't want to 'forget things',” he hisses, bringing his hands up in airquotes. “You have to right to tell me to 'forget things'.”

“I don't mean forget Akiteru!” Tadashi warbles. Tsukishima winces. There's a stabbing sensation at his sternum. “I mean... I don't know what I mean. Forget being so sad.”

“I'm not sad.” Tsukishima starts walking again, nearly at a jog now, hoping against hope that Tadashi will leave him alone and go home. Later, when he's alone in his room, he'll feel guilty for treating Tadashi like this, an unfamiliar tugging which won't go away, but right now he doesn't care.

Tsukishima isn't sad. His brother Akiteru is dead, that's that, being sad won't bring him back. Nothing will bring him back, not Tadashi, not his mother, not a new job, not everything under the sky. Dead is dead. Dead means not here. What's the point in rocking the boat if there's no one else in it.

“Tsukki! Tsukki, I'm sorry, I won't do it again.” Tadashi struggles to keep up, breathing heavily. Being angry is exhausting, being angry at Tadashi even more so. He never seems to know when to give up. Tsukishima tuts before slowing his pace. Just a little.

“Okay,” Tsukishima says.

“Okay,” Tadashi replies.

The rest of their walk together is in silence.

 

~*~

 

Kuroo Tetsurou spends a lot of his time in transit. He lives a semi-nomadic life, constantly in between places, between his mum's and his dad's and Kenma's and Nekoma. If you gave him a pen and paper he could probably draw you a fairly accurate map of Edo from memory. Kuroo Tetsurou is at home between his homes as he is inside of them.

So he doesn't expect anything untoward as he saunters from Kenma's to his mother's house, which may have been his first mistake. He's smiling, hardly paying attention to anything around him, which was probably his second. But how could he not? He's been smiling since he got the email from Akaashi, three words that said _Bokuto's coming home._ He had been irritating Kenma with his smiling for a good twenty-four hours, sending him picture messages of his smiling face even knowing full well that Kenma had probably locked his phone away in a drawer by now. He had smiled his way right into Kenma's house after school and smiled his way right out. Bokuto's coming home. How can he not smile.

He doesn't dwell on why Akaashi sent him the news instead of Bokuto himself, or on why his military training camp was cut short. All he cares about is seeing Bokuto's ridiculous face as soon as possible, maybe giving him a huge, sloppy briss (bro-kiss) or three. God it's been so long. Well, two months, which he's aware in the grand scheme of things is the blink of an eye, but it's longer than he cares to remember.

He had asked Akaashi when, of course, but they had sent him an emoticon of a shrug. He had sent Bokuto a long email with several hundred exclamation points asking everything he could think to ask but still hadn't received a reply. Kuro refuses to let it worry him, though, because the end result is the same. Bokuto is coming back, he's going to be here, with him, in Edo. Joy of joys, this is a very good day.

He's still smiling when the weirdo appears behind him, still smiles even as he yelps at the tap against his shoulder. It's only when he sees their face, mouth wide and eyes leering, that he lets it drop and picks up a different smile instead, a smirk.

“Can I help you with something?” Kuro asks coolly. His eyes flit over to another figure, half hidden in the shadows of a sidestreet.

“Hi,” the weirdo says brightly, pulling out the consonant like it's something to enjoy. “You're Kuroo Tetsurou, yes? I'm Suguru Daishou, my creepy friend over there is Kyoutani Kentarou.” The weirdo laughs through a lipless mouth. “Don't worry about him, though, he's harmless. Can we talk to you for a second?”

Kuro weighs up his options. The two here haven't blocked the street at his back but he has no way of knowing what's around the corner. He could run, but it's a gamble. And besides, they haven't hurt him yet. So he does what he does best, he talks and he turns on the fear.

“Depends on how brave you think you are,” Kuro says, grinning. He gets way more from his Darknut mother than his Wingback father, the only clues to his dad's heritage being his black nails and malformed shoulder blades. And Darknuts are powerful psychics, they draw out fear, they bring every terrified feeling a person has ever felt and bring it to the forefront. It works better if a person is already scared when he does it, but it's not like it matters too much right now. He's never been on the receiving end himself, but from what he's seen it's not a pleasant experience.

The weirdo swallows, narrows their eyes, and then laughs. “Aren't you something!” they say, nothing to hint at their fear except for a very slight wavering in their voice which they quickly get under control. Kuro turns it up. “Oh, calm down. Here, this is my ID.”

Suguru flashes something which looks vaguely governmental, a shiny pin on one side and a blue card with their weird looking face on the other. Kuro narrows his eyes. He doesn't let up.

“Could you stop now, please?” Suguru says happily. “This really isn't very comfortable, although if you insist on keeping it up then I suppose it won't be hard to explain myself through it.”

“How are you doing that?” Kuro asks.

“Doing what?” Suguru asks innocently.

“You're barely breaking a sweat. How are you doing that?” Kuro has never really felt powerless until now. He'd be scared if he wasn't so fascinated. He turns it up higher.

Suguru laughs nervously, the first major crack they've shown which Kuro takes as a win. “Wow, you really are something. It's just a little trick I was taught. Are you interested?”

“Yes.”

The guy in the shadows shifts his weight slightly, like he's getting ready to leave.

“You know, Tetsurou, if I may call you that -”

“You mayn't.”

“Kuroo, then. We've heard – heard a lot about you.” Suguru chokes on his words and Kuro smiles a savage grin.

“From who?”

“Oh, here and there. I'm not really supposed to say.” Kuro turns it up higher and Suguru's leering smile falls for a split second. “You won't get to know either, if you keep that up,” they growl.

That's what Kuro was waiting for. When people are scared, really terrified, they reveal something very intimate about themselves. Kuro takes a strange sort of pleasure in knowing what it is. He looks Suguru in the eye and pretends to think about it for a long time. And then he lets it go, abruptly and without warning. Suguru stumbles and gasps.

“Thank you,” they say, fist clutched into their blouse and breathing heavier than normal. “Was that really so hard?”

“How do you know who I am?”

“Well, see Kuro, you've been chosen for a programme which we think you'll be very interested in. We think you could become something really special.”

“What is it?”

“It's kind of like a branch of the Self-Defence Forces, only very small and you'll act from direct governmental orders.” Suguru pauses for effect. “It's very well paid. You'll get to learn that trick I used and a lot more besides.”

“Why would I be interested? How do you know who I am?”

“Oh, we just had a hunch. Here,” they bring out a small, square card from their pocket and scrawl something onto it before handing it to Kuro. “We've got to head off now, but if you find yourself wanting to know more, just call that number,” they tap twice on the card. Kuro says nothing.

He does want to know more. He really does, but he doesn't let it show.

“So what, I'm supposed to call some weird number from two random people who approached me in a backalley?” Kuro slaps a smirk on his face but his eyes stay thoughtful. “Sounds like a load of bullshit to me. What if I went to the press instead?”

“Then you'll never hear from us again, and it would be an entirely valid way of telling us you're not interested. I doubt anyone would publish the unsubstantiated story of a psychic teenager, but we'll know. Now, if you'll excuse me.” Suguru heads to the sidestreet where their partner waits.

“Wait -”

“If you want to know more, call that number. Now please, I know it may not look like it but we are genuinely very busy people.” And then they're gone.

Kuro looks at the card. He should rip it up, throw it away. He should burn it or bury it, get rid of it somehow.

He doesn't. He slips it into his pocket instead.

 

~*~

 

Their face is smooshed up next to a stranger's arm and they smell armpit from everywhere, but it doesn't seem to matter. They hear the memory of their dad going Tobio, Tobio, you okay there? They want to reply no, but there's no one to hear them. They are so hungry and they don't know what to do. Their feet are tired. So is their body and their heart and their everything. They wish they had stayed in the forest with dad, even if it was impossible. The stranger next to them pushes their face against the window. They push back. The stranger gives them a strange look and leans away. The town trundles past like old memories. They feel hollow.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I love Noya he is my fave.  
> Me to me: make him suffer.  
> Me cubed: what a good idea


	3. Sorries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daows are strange, people call them human monsters in a way that sounds deprecating from monster lips and offensive from human ones. They're no stronger or weaker than humans, they look no different, they have no special abilities except for one: they glow in the dark. They've been associated with luck, with love, with angels and, until about a hundred years ago, kept as charms by the wealthy. As the sun sets and Akaashi stands, still save for that one tiny shift of their weight, Kuro can almost understand where the myriad of false associations comes from. Akaashi looks ethereal, like something that has stepped onto Earth from a place outside time and space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of what I will term the Sad Noya saga. It was a wild ride. Remember when he gritted his teeth? And the time he curled his hand into a fist? A lot of absolute fuck all happened, didn't it. It was great. 
> 
> If you make it through to the end of this chapter, there's fluff in it for you.
> 
> Also don't out your friends. Or anyone. Don't do it. 
> 
> Comments and Kudos appreciated but not compulsory.
> 
> CW in this chapter for:  
> outing in the third section  
> implied child abuse in the last section

No one will tell Hinata anything, just because he's a kid and they think he won't understand. He wants to know where his dad is. He knows he's not dead, he saw him the other day, dressed in a turquoise shirt and trousers he's never seen him wear before ever. His mum cries all the time and when he goes to her and asks why she says that things are getting to her, but he doesn't know what that means. Hinata wants to know, that's not too much to ask. At preschool the teachers treat him like spun glass, or broken glass, and they don't think he notices but he does. He starts getting angry at the other kids, at his mum, at his teachers, at everyone. No one tells him anything. He wants his dad. He just wants to know.

It's lonely.

 

~*~

 

Noya remembers.

He checks his phone before he enters. A string of messages from _Asahi <3 _all written with gratuitous use of ellipses, all skirting close to we need to talk territory. Which is fine, this is fine, Noya and Asahi have talked dozens of times before, they've talked about deep stuff and light stuff and weird stuff, it's totally fine that Asahi needs to talk. Maybe he's worried about something. That would be just like him, to fixate on something small and inconsequential and follow that thought until he ends up in an anxious mess over the meaning of life.

Asahi thinks deeply, he drifts through life with all these thoughts in his head which he tells to Noya in his quiet, low voice. It's one of the many things Noya likes about him. Loves about him? God, maybe that's what he needs to talk about, maybe Asahi finally wants to make it official. Maybe he went out to get flowers and then forgot about them after finding some pretty coloured leaf and now he has an armful of auburn leaves and no flowers and he's working himself into a tizzy about it.

The thing is, Noya never knows for sure what Asahi is thinking. It can be terrifying, like leaping into an abyss, and whether there's a soft landing or not Noya can only trust Asahi to know. But when they're together, Noya finds himself smiling. He finds himself leaping without a second thought.

He takes a deep breath and knocks on Asahi's door. He enters without waiting for an answer because Asahi never remembers to lock his door. And frankly, Noya thinks he deserves a bit of a shock after making him so nervous.

Asahi emerges from around a corner and Noya doesn't bother to fight back his smile. He bounds through the corridor and launches himself at Asahi, who makes a small _oof_ sound and staggers backwards into his bedroom. Their faces sure are close. Comfortably close? Well for Noya, maybe, but judging by the look on Asahi's face this isn't something he particularly wants to deal with.

There are no flowers around. No leaves, either.

Noya slides off Asahi and onto the floor. “So... hey.”

“Hey.”

“Suga in?”

“No, still at work.”

Silence.

Noya feels something bubbling underneath the surface, things unspoken and best left that way. Old ghosts and new ones, a cauldron of conversations he doesn't want to have.

Asahi stares at him but not really at him. He's staring at his face and his thoughts are somewhere else, somewhere Noya can't get to.

“Asahi?”

“Oh. Sorry, God, sorry. Do you want some tea? Nothing's ready, I should have cleaned up before you came. And the carpet is stained. Please don't think you're obligated to stay here, you can go if you want.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No! No, what would give you that idea?”

Noya nearly laughs, but those texts he received linger in his mind like a portent. “You said I can go.”

“Only if you want! I don't want that, I like you being here.”

“Asahi you skip like three sentences between every sentence you say out loud,” Noya says, rolling his eyes. He moves off the floor and jumps into an empty armchair. “We're not all Azumane whisperers, you have to say what you mean.”

“Sorry,”

“And don't say sorry when you don't need to, we've talked about this.”

“Yeah, okay, sor-”

“Asahi.”

“sor- dammit.” He laughs, scratching at something on his face. “I swear, you do that on purpose.”

Noya hums in something that isn't confirmation or denial. Asahi's face instantly collapses into a frown.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine”

“You seem... uptight?” He phrases it like a question, like the word isn't exactly right and he knows it, like the word he wants to use doesn't exist.

Noya smiles. “I'm really fine, don't be such a worryword.”

“It's worrywart.”

“I know the damn phrase,” Noya says defensively. “I like mine better.” Asahi laughs again, but it's short lived. His face finds its way back to a worried frown the same way all roads lead to Rome.

“Something's bothering you.”

“It isn't.”

“It is, Yuu. I don't... I'm not... I can't do much, I'm kind of useless, but I can tell when something is up with you. Please tell me.”

He always knows. Asahi can always tell when something is bothering Noya, and it worries him so much that Noya always ends up telling him eventually, even when it hurts. It's like a superpower, except useless and painful.

“You're not useless.”

Asahi says nothing, he only stands and waits. Noya forces out a breath.

“So what did you want to talk about?”

Asahi's features rearrange themselves into something like guilt. “I thought that might be it...”

“So?”

“It's nothing, really...”

“It's not nothing.”

Asahi fidgets, knitting his fingers together as he goes to sit on the side of the armchair Noya is sat on. After a moment of hesitation, Noya lets his head fall onto his side, feels the muscles of Asahi''s arm under his skull. Asahi breathes a small, contented sigh.

“I was just wondering... if maybe... maybe you would not... as in, maybe you'd reconsider enlisting.”

Noya pulls his head away from Asahi's arm to look at his face. Asahi stares resolutely at the wall in front of him.

“Are you joking?”

“You're mad. I'm sorry.”

“I'm not mad!” Noya shouts. He takes a deep breath, calms himself down. “What the hell is bringing this on?”

Asahi scratches at his arms. “I get scared.”

“There's nothing to be scared of, you big lug.” Noya laughs, punching Asahi's arm. “You don't have to join with me, I won't joke about it anymore if you don't want.”

“I was never going to join anyway. I'm not brave enough. But that would be nice.”

“You're plenty brave. I've never seen you run from anything, even when you're scared, which is like all the fucking time. Brave as fuck, that's what you are.”

Asahi smiles but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He continues to stare at the wall, deep in thought.

“It's not that,” he says, quietly, like he's speaking from far away. “I get scared for you.”

“I'll be fine.”

“But what if you're not?”

“I will be. I promise.”

Asahi groans. “But what if you're _not?_ ” He drags his hands down his face. “Do you know how much time I spend thinking about what, what could happen to you? And this is, this is without even thinking about the military or the war or anything. You could hit a building when you're flying, you could-”

“I'm not that thick.”

“No, I know, Yuu, I know you're not. But you could, the point is it could happen. And if you join the SDF and you go to war... God, I don't want to think about it. You could die, Yuu.”

“I won't.”

“You can't promise that!”

“What, you think they're firing soldiers out of canons or something?” Noya laughs, a cruel sound. “This isn't seventeen fucking twelve, Asahi, I'm not -”

“You're missing the point!” And holy shit, did Asahi just raise his voice? At Noya? A flare of anger bursts in Noya's chest, more than the irritation he'd been dealing with until now.

“What is the fucking point, then? You know I want to enlist, I've been talking about it since we met. What the fuck is your deal bringing it up now?”

“I thought you might change your mind.”

Noya scoffs harshly. “Have we met? Do you know a Nishinoya Yuu who flip-flops on important shit? I sure as hell don't.”

“Why do you even want to join?”

“Because I do! Because it's cool!”

“That's not a reason, Yuu.”

“It's as good a reason as any!”

“Why is it cool? You could die!”

“I'm aware of the risk, Asahi, Jesus.” Noya ruffles both hands through his hair. “I'm not gonna die, and if I do then at least I'll die for you. And Hinata, and the country. It'll be worth something. I'll die for what's right.”

“But it's not right, I don't want you to die for me. Or anything. That's the point. I want you to live for me. With me. I want you to stay.”

“Asahi, don't. You're not gonna change my mind.”

Pause. A weighted quiet.

“It feels like you don't care,” Asahi says. That flare of anger billows into something hotter. Noya springs from his seat.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts, staring Asahi down as he cowers. “I care plenty, you damn well know that. How dare you, how -” Noya is cut off by a feeling, not so much full blown fear as a terrified nervousness which appears out of nowhere and sticks to the back of his mind like gum. He turns to stare at Asahi, eyes wide with anger and nerves on edge. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Asahi gulps. “I can't -”

Noya advances on Asahi. “Are you, are you really – God.” The nervousness rises to an anxious fear, a cloying, decaying thing. Noya clutches at his chest. Asahi makes a whimpering sound. “Stop it,” Noya whispers, choking on his words. “Don't do this to me.”

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I can't help it, I'm so sorry.”

Noya stares all his possibilities in the face and finds himself terrified of every single second that will come. Asahi is close to hyperventilating, willing himself to calm down and failing, staring at a scared, small Noya who backs away slowly, clinging onto his own arms so hard he draws blood with his claws. His grey feathers are puffed, his eyes track the floor. And then he looks at Asahi, straight in the eye, like a boy betrayed, like he's hit hard ground. The terror spikes. Asahi closes his eyes and moans. Noya's mouth opens and closes, gapes like a fish. He shakes his head and whimpers, then turns on his heel and walks fast out the door.

He flies high enough that the cold starts to hurt. He doesn't go home until he feels like his wings will snap off.

Noya turns in his bed. He replays the memory over again.

 

 

~*~

 

 

Kuro's words about weirdos and backalleys and phone numbers written on thick card keep muscling their way to the forefront of Kenma's mind and sticking there, the same way they have since he was told about it a few days ago. He worries at his bottom lip. He had thought that a lazy Sunday out with Inuoka, a human friend with only a tangential relationship to anything monstrous, would calm him. He had even offered to walk the whole way from the shopping district to Inuoka's home, even though they lived in opposite directions. But the knowledge of something he doesn't understand being so close to Kuro keeps popping up in his head like mind herpes, never properly going away even when he thinks it's gone.

Inuoka, meanwhile, hums tunelessly as they walk, oblivious to Kenma's crisis, as he is to most things. It would get on Kenma's nerves if he didn't have his brain occupied by bigger, darker, more irritating, more Kuro things.

The word _battler_ rolls around in his head in his father's bland voice. They talk about battlers a lot more than they do other things behind that closed door, his parents. They talk about recruitment.

Inuoka prods him. “Off in your own world, aren't ya?” Kenma hums in acknowledgement. “Anyway, do you know that person? They keep screaming your name.”

He gestures behind them with his thumb, forcing Kenma to turn around.

“Oh,” he says. “That's Shouyou"

“Shouyou?”

“Yeah, he's a friend.”

“A monster friend? He's got wings.”

“Yes, clearly.”

“Awesome! Can I ask him stuff?”

“Please don't.”

“I'm gonna do it.”

Kenma rolls his eyes as Hinata comes jogging closer. He raises a hand in lazy greeting. Hinata picks up speed and Kenma's eyes widen. Please, God, don't let him.

Hinata opens his arms out, flaps his wings slightly with excitement, and then barrels so hard into Kenma's chest they both lose balance and end up on the floor. A number of flashcards spill out of Hinata's pockets and onto the ground, covered in his (surprisingly neat) handwriting. Kenma sighs.

“Hello, Shouyou.”

“Kenma!” Hinata hauls himself up from off of Kenma, picking up the flashcards that had gotten away from him and shoving them quickly back into his pockets. “What are you doing here?”

“Walking.”

Hinata giggles. It's only once he's properly back on his feet with the dirt brushed off his front that he seems to notice Inuoka. He stares starry-eyed at him, and Inuoka stares starry-eyed right back.

“Woah, holy crap, are you a human?” Hinata asks. “I didn't know Kenma had human friends.”

“I have more than three friends, Shouyou.”

“Really?” Hinata replies, with genuine curiosity. Kenma huffs. That was... insulting but not entirely unwarranted, if he's being honest with himself. And really the grand total comes to about five. Six at a push.

“You're a Wingback!” Inuoka all but screeches.

“Yeah!” Hinata all but screeches back. Kenma groans inwardly. He berates providence for finding it fit to put these two noisy people anywhere near each other.

“Are you gay?” Inuoka asks. “Are you dating Kenma?” He bounces on the balls of his feet as Kenma barely keeps a mortified moan from passing his lips.

Hinata stills quite suddenly. “Um. What?”

“We're not dating,” Kenma says, keeping his pained expression hidden behind his hand.

“But you are gay, right?”

“I don't think so? Maybe?” Hinata blinks and leans away. “Kenma,” he stage whispers, not so much for effect but because he can't manage anything quieter. “Are all your human friends this weird?”

“All my non-human friends are this weird too.”

Inuoka cocks his head. “I thought all monsters were gay.”

“That's really...” Hinata wrinkles his nose, thinking. “Human of you.”

“So they're not?”

“Inuoka, please shut up.”

“I thought that's why you had so many monster friends!” he says loudly. Kenma looks around the street from behind his hair, hoping that no one else is around to hear this. He can't bear attention from strangers. “Excuse me for asking questions.”

“It's just not a monster thing,” Kenma sighs quietly, quietly enough that he hopes Inuoka will take the hint.

“Yeah!” Hinata says, pointing at Kenma and nodding. “It's really human to call yourself gay.”

“What? That's not true, that monster on TV came out last week.”

“Yeah, well, _some_ people do it, obviously. Walls are like that a lot. And Daows.”

“But not Wingbacks?”

“I dunno! Sometimes? We just like who we like. Like, why call yourself gay when you could like someone who's not a dude tomorrow?” Hinata wrinkles his nose. “It doesn't make any sense.”

“Huh.” Inuoka cocks his head to the other side. “That's really cool.”

“It's just _sensible._ ” Hinata says, wagging a finger at Inuoka. _“_ Humans are never sensible.”

“Kenma is.”

“No, Kenma's just smart.” Hinata turns to Kenma and beams, and Kenma wishes that the entire Earth would open up and swallow them all and leave nothing behind. That doesn't seem like too much to ask in this situation.

He makes a mental note to make less embarrassing friends. Whenever he gets over his inability to talk to strangers without Kuro around.

Oh yeah, Kuro. And now he's thinking about him again. Kenma bites at his bottom lip, frowning.

“Kenma's gay, you know,” Inuoka says, which successfully manages to drive all Kuro related thoughts out of Kenma's head. It also successfully makes Kenma turn on his heel and start walking as fast as he can away from his friends. Hinata laughs, saying “I know, he told me,” as Inuoka splutters.

“Wait, Kenma!” Inuoka shouts as he runs after him. “Was it supposed to be a secret? I'm sorry, wait!” His hand falls on Kenma's shoulder. Kenma shrugs it off. “Are you really mad?” Inuoka asks. Kenma turns to stare at him as Hinata jogs to catch up.

“Don't say that. It's private.”

Inuoka looks down at his shoes. “Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Kenma sniffs. “Don't do it again, please.”

Inuoka nods, rubbing at his cheek like a kid caught stealing candy.

“Your friends are weird, Kenma,” Hinata says as he meets up with them. Inuoka frowns at him, then laughs, nodding in agreement. “Do you guys wanna come with me?”

Inuoka says something about being home in half an hour to look after his sister. Kenma only shrugs.

“Where?”

“Shimizu's shop.” Hinata's hand closes around the rectangular lump in his pocket. “I've got to ask her something.”

Kenma doesn't know what Shimizu's shop is or who 'she' is, but it'll be something to take his mind off of things for a little longer, at least. Or he hopes it will. He looks at Inuoka, who nods encouragingly.

“Sure,” he says. It's something to do.

 

~*~

 

Kageyama sits in Kiyoko's shop like they have an iron rod for a spine, the plush fabric of the sofa gobbling up their thighs and holding them like a prisoner. What are they doing here? They can see the man with grey hair looking over at them every so often, a distracted frown on his face and searching eyes. He sits next to another man, talking to him, leaning over the counter and gazing up at his face whenever he's not staring at them. God, what is Kageyama doing here?

They're alone, a rapidly cooling up of coffee sitting on the table in front of them, without Hinata to act as a buffer between Kageyama and the rest of the world. They've come here with him a handful of times since Tuesday, not every day but close enough. And it's been... nice? It's been something at least. Hinata is a tornado of questions and babbling and long, long stares. He looks at Kageyama like there's something to them, like there's more than meets the eye. He's infuriating and frivolous and completely unknowable, but when he smiles it's like he's asking you to smile, too. It's... nice. It's something.

Kageyama doesn't want to get attached, they can't do that all again.

The image of his smile comes unbidden to their mind. Maybe that ship has sailed.

Kiyoko comes to collect some empty plates and mugs on the table next to them. Kageyama stiffens further. She's strange, this woman, Kageyama doesn't know if they like her. Where Hinata is on a quest to find whatever he can, Kiyoko seems like she already knows everything.

They still haven't worked up the courage to check if she's human or not. Of course, Kageyama knows rationally that she probably isn't, they think she's a psychic, but the thought of actually asking sends a shiver up their spine, like she'll manage to piece something together just by their words, like she'll figure out their secrets if they so much as whimper close to her. It's like she carries knowledge like a treasure, a superpower. It scares them.

“Kageyama?”

Kageyama would like to pretend that they didn't nearly brain themself at Kiyoko's voice, so that's exactly what they're going to do. They cough, as if coughing will cover up their full body spasm, and nod in reply. Then they remember that words are a thing and that they should probably be using them.

“Yes. Hello. Shimizu.”

Her smile straddles mocking and compassion. She even smiles like she knows too much.

“Is something bothering you?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? You've been staring at me rather a long time.”

Kageyama coughs again because they don't know what sound they're supposed to make. They know they have a habit of staring, many people have mentioned it - Hinata has mentioned it at least twice every time they've met – but it's not like they realise they're doing it. Besides, they don't get what the big deal is anyway. If someone is a threat then of course they're going to stare, who wouldn't?

“Yes, I'm fine. Thank you,” they say, nodding like an automaton.

Kiyoko's eyes wander over their body, two vices pulling them apart. “Yachi told me you have a problem with humans,” she says bluntly.

“I do _not,_ ” they mutter petulantly, which is an absolute lie. Humans are powerful and cruel. They've never met a human who hasn't hurt them, not one. Their hand goes to clutch at their scarf, but they know better than to take it off.

“It's fine, I'm sure you have your reasons. It's okay to be scared.”

“I know.”

A beat of silence.

“You're safe here. We only hire monsters.”

Kageyama doesn't make eye contact. They nod. Why won't she go away. Why does it feel like she's learning something even when they say nothing.

Kiyoko is silent for a second as she sets down her plates on Kageyama's table. She rolls up her sleeve.

“Here, look.” Kageyama turns their head very slightly to stare at Kiyoko's pale arm. Running along it are deep, black holes, not wide and swirly like the ones on that blonde kid from Tuesday, hers are elegant, contained, almost refined. She taps on one with her nail; it makes a sound like hitting plastic. “I'm a Wall, see? You're safe.”

Kageyama's shoulders relax very slightly, a niggling doubt in their mind laid to rest. A Wall with no holes on her face or hands, a real rarity.

Like Kageyama. A real rarity.

Their shoulders relax further. They reach for their coffee. Kiyoko smiles again, picking the plates and crumpled tissues back up while Kageyama watches.

“Do you need help?” they ask, unsure of what else to say but aware of the need to say something. Kiyoko laughs, bright and charming, and then stops abruptly, something thoughtful in her features.

“Actually,” she says. “I do.”

The door to the shop bursts open, the sound of windchimes interrupting all speech. Hinata appears like a tiny, irritating angel, flanked by a boy with half bleached hair and eyes like a cat. The boy, that human boy, Kenma. Kageyama's shoulders rise way back up to their ears.

“Kageyama?” Hinata shouts. There's no way he can ever be quiet is there. Kageyama grits their teeth and rolls their eyes, momentarily forgetting about the human.

Kiyoko rests a hand on the seat next to Kageyama, not touching them. They wonder if she's doing it on purpose, but even if she isn't they can't help the rush of gratitude at the non-tactile show of support. It worries them. They don't want to feel indebted.

“Come by tomorrow around two, okay? You can have a trail shift,” she says. “You're safe here, remember that.”

Hinata patters up to him as Kiyoko leaves, his friend ghosting along behind him. “What are you doing here!”

“I can be here without you, dumbass.” Their eyes flick to Kenma. He's staring but drops his gaze when their eyes meet.

“Yeah, I know!” Hinata says defensively, crossing his arms. “You're so annoying. _Why_ are you here?”

Kageyama doesn't have an answer, so they say “I don't have to tell you anything.”

Hinata punches them, light as a feather. “You're such a problem child. Oh, Kageyama this is Ken...ma,” the realisation of his two friend's previous acquaintance finally dawns on Hinata. “Oh... right.”

He looks longingly over at the counter, where Kiyoko makes a very good show of pretending not to watch their group. His eyes alight on Suga and he whines something under his breath about everyone he needs being here. Then he turns back to Kageyama, a weird, worried look in his eye that makes them uncomfortable. It reminds them too much of people they'd rather forget.

“I gotta go talk to Kiyoko and Suga for a bit, okay? Kenma won't hurt you, I promise. If he does then I'll fight him.” Kenma snorts and Hinata beams at him. “I won't have to, though, because Kenma is cool. Plus you could probably, like, crush his skull by staring or something.” Kageyama glares at Hinata. “Yeah, like that. So scary."

He steers Kenma to sit down opposite Kageyama and then takes off without another word. Silence falls like a bird with a broken wing.

Kenma draws his feet up onto the chair so his chin rests on his knees, playing with his shoelaces. He pointedly stares everywhere that isn't Kageyama, who pointedly stares only at Kenma.

“You're not looking at me,” says Kageyama suspiciously. Kenma's eyes drift lazily towards them.

“Do you want me to?”

“No. When Hinata took me to you, you wouldn't stop staring.”

“Oh. Yeah. Kuro was there,” he says, like that explains everything.

“The Darknut? He makes you stare?”

Kenma laughs airily. “No, he makes me feel safe. Shouyou asked me to stare.” Kageyama's face twists in confusion. “He wanted help figuring you out, so he asked me. It didn't help much, though,” Kenma explains. He twists his shoelaces between his fingers and looks over to Hinata, gesticulating wildly next to the grey-haired man. “You fascinate him.”

“Why?”

Kenma turns his golden eyes to Kageyama. He's like Kiyoko, gives off the impression he knows more than he says. Kageyama suppresses a shiver. “Because you're new.”

Those words shrink Kageyama down to the size of a toy soldier. Because you're new. Shiny and strange and different. Something to twist, something to figure out. Hinata's smile, wide and sincere, comes back to them. Hinata's questions come back, too.

What happens when Hinata finds something else to fascinate him? Where does Kageyama go? They glance over at him. He hasn't turned back once since he started talking to Kiyoko and the grey-haired man. He's forgotten all about them.

“So where are you from?” Kenma asks awkwardly. Kageyama's attention snaps back to him, sitting with half his face hidden by his legs. Leaving them together was a terrible idea, Kageyama can tell that neither of them excel at small talk.

“Um... Saitama, I guess.”

Kenma makes almost no movement but everything about him seems to get sharper. “And you came to Edo? Why? Couldn't you stay in the capitol?”

“No.”

“How come?”

Kageyama feels a bead of sweat trickle down their face. What does this boy know? What does he want to find out? His eyes are like scalpels, like dissecting tools. He's not with them is he? He can't be. Can he? Does he know who Kageyama is? What Kageyama is? They feel their jaw lock up. They have to speak, they can't be suspicious. What do they say? They feel like Kenma could discover a lie quite easily, and they've never been any good at telling them.

“I had some... friends I couldn't stay with anymore. So I left.”

“There was no where else in the city?”

“No.”

“Parents?”

“I don't have any.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Fine.” Kageyama cuts Kenma off as he opens his mouth, “please,” they say. “Can we talk about something else?”

Kenma watches them for a stretched moment, like the second of floating at the peak of a jump. Then he blinks very slowly and nods. “Sure.” His eyes rake over Kageyama, take in their stiff posture, the way their knuckles turn white as they clasp their mug. “I won't hurt you. I promise.”

“Okay.”

“Do you believe me?”

Kageyama drops their gaze for the first time, staring at their own reflection in their cold coffee. They look over at Hinata again, who nods earnestly at something Kiyoko says.

“No.”

 

~*~

 

It's like trying to talk with the ocean in your ears. The kid with the black hair, the Kageyama, sitting there behind him like an out of place statue stokes the whispers into life. More than once Suga has found himself shouting at Daichi over the noise of them, taking him by surprise and leaving Suga to smile sheepishly and lie about being ever so slightly deaf. This isn't how a first date is supposed to go.

His eyes wander back to the Kageyama. It feels invasive having them here, it feels wrong.

“Is that person a friend of yours or something?” Daichi asks after his story ends and Suga doesn't reply.

“Hmm? Oh, no, sorry. What were you saying?”

“You could at least pretend to be listening.”

Suga cringes. For a hot second he feels a lurch of anger towards the stranger behind him, then reels it in. Because Daichi is right, he could at least pretend. It's not like the Kageyama is even doing anything wrong, just sitting there like the awkward child that they are. Another wave of guilt washes over Suga. He shouldn't be getting angry at a kid for existing, even if they do make his head louder than it needs to be. He flounders for something smart to say but Kiyoko gets there first.

“Kageyama is something of a local mystery, I'm sure once you know them better you'll find yourself distracted as well. But Suga, do pay attention, it's unbecoming to look so gormless.”

Daichi chuckles. “Yeah, zombie Suga isn't as cute as normal Suga.”

“But zombie Suga _is_ normal Suga,” Suga says, shooting Kiyoko a thankful look and resolving to ignore the Kageyama as best he can. “Why do you think I work in a graveyard, Daichi? Have you ever checked what I put in my sandwiches?” Weak joke, he thinks to himself, but hopefully it'll move Daichi's attention away from Suga's faux pas.

Daichi hums thoughtfully. “Why _do_ you work there? Any why are the graves so far apart?”

“It's peaceful,” Suga says as he shrugs. “And it's a Muslim cemetery, they don't cremate their dead.” Suga leaves out how the whispers seem to say so much more around buried dead than cremated. Well, not say, not with words – they speak with the way they move, how they flow.

“You're Muslim?”

Suga laughs. “No, I just work there. I think my mum might have been, though, I'm not sure. I'll have to ask dad about it...” Suga's mother had died when he was too young to know her and his dad had met his current partner about two years later. As far as Suga is concerned he's never really had a mother, except in wistful comments his father throws out every so often. You have her eyes, or her face, or her stare. She was beautiful, clever, quiet. I wonder if you can hear her? It makes his partner, the other man Suga calls dad, visibly uncomfortable, but whether that's jealousy or a reaction to the prospect of death - especially death where Suga is concerned - he's never known.

They lapse into a thoughtful silence, the only sound the slurp of lips against coffee and tea.

“So how's Michimiya?” Suga asks Kiyoko after the silence has gone on long enough he starts to feel uncomfortable. Daichi chokes on his coffee.

“Michimiya?”

“Yes,” Kiyoko says, one eyebrow arched. “My girlfriend.”

“No way. Is her given name Yui?”

Kiyoko's other eyebrow joins the first. “Yes, it is. Do you two know each other?” Daichi laughs, running a hand over his head.

“Ah, well, kind of. She was an old high school girlfriend.”

Kiyoko frowns in puzzlement before her mouth forms a perfect O and she nods in understanding. Suga only looks baffled.

“I was under the impression that Michimiya is a gigantic lesbian?” he says, eyes darting between Daichi and Kiyoko, aware of something he's missing.

“Oh, well... I, uh, well... I kind of... looked like a girl back then, I guess. It was before I started transitioning.”

“Oh. Oh! You were born a girl?”

Daichi's face sours. “No, I was born a baby. And now I'm a dude. Is that a problem?”

“No! No, of course not, no. Sorry, that was insensitive of me.”

“Kind of.” Suga cringes again and mutters another sorry. God, this definitely isn't how first dates are supposed to go. Please, God, let him save this. Daichi is nice and hot and has an incredible ass, it can't end this way.

“So what's Yui up to these days?” Daichi continues, nodding Suga's apology away.

“She works for the government.”

“Really? Yui? I thought she'd be a sports scientist or something.”

Kiyoko laughs. “No, she's more like... a social worker. She still plays volleyball, though.”

“That's great. She was good at it, you know.”

“I know,” Kiyoko says with a far off glint in her eye. “I like watching her.”

“Gay,” says Suga.

“That is pretty gay,” Daichi agrees.

Kiyoko rolls her eyes and excuses herself. Suga watches out of the corner of his eye as she picks her way daintily around chairs and then pauses by the Kageyama. He sees her roll up her sleeve and his eyebrows shoot upwards. He tracks her as she comes back, keeping half his mind focused on some story Daichi launches into about a customer with one huge bicep and one tiny one (he works in retail, which Suga knew, at a sports shop, which Suga didn't know).

They entertain themselves for a while with mindless banter as Kiyoko chats to the Kageyama. Suga feels himself gradually come back into control of the situation, begins to hope that he can salvage this date.

And then, of course, Hinata happens.

He bursts into the place like sunlight through clouds, shouts the Kageyama's name, talks loudly with them (or at them, Suga is never sure with Hinata) and then comes pottering over to the counter, heading directly for Suga. He pulls out cards from his pocket as he walks, his mouth moving subtly as he goes over the words.

“Hi Suga,” he says cheerily as he comes to stand next to him. He turns to Kiyoko. His eyes dart to the card in his hand. “H-hi Shimizu.” He turns the card over. “Shimizu, I was wondering if you could help me with something.”

Suga lets out a sudden laugh. “Hinata, holy crap, did you write a speech to Kiyoko?”

“No! Shut up! They're just notes.”

“That's adorable.”

“I'm not adorable!”

Suga tugs on his date's arm. “Daichi, isn't he adorable?”

“Kids are generally adorable,” he says magnanimously. Hinata twirls on him, feathers puffed outwards.

“I'm not a kid! I'm seventeen! Well, tomorrow I'm seventeen, but I'm still not a kid.”

Daichi chuckles. “Oh, man, sorry.” He lifts his mug to his mouth and mutters something that sounds suspiciously like 'adorable' in Suga's direction. Suga grins at him.

“Please ignore these two, Hinata, they're idiots,” Kiyoko says, waving at them like flies. “What were you saying?”

“Yeah, right, r-right. Uh... gimme a sec.” Hinata goes back to his cards and rereads them. Kiyoko makes eye contact with Suga and they share a silent laugh at his expense. Hinata really is something incredible. As in, cannot be believed, difficult to swallow. He's almost more like an experience than a person.

Kiyoko sighs. “I don't mean to rush you but I won't be young forever.”

“Right! Yeah! So, Sh-Shimizu. And Suga, since you're here too.” His eyes flit back to his cards once again. “I think you're aware of the situation between Noya and Asahi. As a friend -” he looks up to Suga, then back down, “friends of Asahi, I was wondering if you could help me in reaching a conclusion to their ongoing dispute.” He sounds like a book report and it really _is_ adorable, but that doesn't make what he says any more comfortable to hear. Hinata's adam's apple bobs as he swallows, looking up at them with wide eyes.

“Yeesh,” Suga says.

“Mmm,” Kiyoko agrees.

“What? What's so yeesh? You can help, right?”

Kiyoko makes fleeting eye contact with Suga. “Hinata, I think this may be something best left for Nishinoya and Asahi to sort between themselves.”

“But -”

“It's very personal. It's really not our business.”

“But it is! He's making it our business by being a killjoy all the time!”

“Who's Asahi?” Daichi asks. Suga shushes him with a pat on his arm. “Who's Nishinoya?” he asks more quietly, near Suga's ear.

“Do you know why they fought?” Kiyoko asks.

“No? Noya won't tell anyone. Do you?”

“Only a little.”

“What about you?” he asks Suga.

Suga rubs at the back of his neck. There goes all that control he had. Maybe it would be better to give up any pretense of control in the first place. “Yeah, kind of.”

“So you can help!”

“No, Hinata...” Suga struggles for an explanation. “I know you want to help, it's very sweet, you're a good friend, but... if we get involved we may be doing more harm than good.”

Hinata shakes his head. “You're wrong.”

“Sorry?”

“I'm not a good friend.” Hinata gazes vacantly at the back wall, his expression going deathly serious. “I don't listen and I'm selfish. Noya told me, and he's right. But he's so sad. I don't want to see him hurting anymore, because it hurts me. Maybe that's selfish too, I don't know. I don't think it matters.” Hinata fixes Suga with a look that makes him recoil slightly, deep, deep and sharp. “I know Noya, if we leave him like this he'll stay all, all... _guuuh_ forever. So help me. Help me make him happy again. I won't let you say no.”

Suga rubs at his face, pressing his lips together. Asahi hadn't been particularly fun to be around recently either, and it doesn't look like there's an end in sight. From what he'd been told everything about the fight had been so open-ended, the kind of argument that was both no one's fault and everyone's, that trailed off like a book with no ending. Perhaps Asahi did need a push in the right direction, and Suga was in the perfect position to give it to him, being his roommate.

He fiddles with the handle of his mug. “Fine,” he says, finally. “I'll talk to Asahi. I can't promise anything, but I'll talk to him.”

Hinata punches the air. “Yes! Give me your email.”

“What?”

“So we can organise a plan, duh.”

“We don't need a plan, Hinata, this isn't Oceans Eleven.”

“I thought Asahi was a coward? Won't he just run off?”

Suga looks mildly offended. “He can be brave when he wants to be. I'll talk to him, we'll see what happens.”

“Still,” Hinata says after a moment of silence. “Let me have your email. I wanna make sure.”

Suga groans. Hinata is so much, and Suga knows he won't leave until he gets what he wants. And curse that look in Hinata's eye, and curse his own soft and caring heart, because now he's dictating his email to Hinata and hoping to God he won't get hundreds of texts trying to work out some elaborate kidnapping.

Hinata does, at least, bustle off happy, which makes Suga feel a little better about the whole situation. He drags his friend off with a shouted goodbye to the Kageyama, who leaves not long after.

This isn't going to be easy. Feelings, emotions, they're always so complex, so fragile, especially when they're other people's. Relationships are power struggles, give and take, tit for tat. They hurt and they change. Suga hates the idea of putting himself in the middle of one he doesn't even know that well.

“Do you give your email to anyone who asks?” Daichi says gently beside him. “I thought I was special.”

The comment takes Suga by surprise. He laughs and shoves Daichi's arm playfully. Well, what's in the future can stay there. For now, Suga has a date.

 

~*~

 

Their dad gets a faraway look in his eye sometimes, telling stories of his childhood to a squirming Tobio. They gaze longingly out the small window as he speaks, out towards the forest.

It's a beautiful place, you know. I met your mother in Edo.

I know, Tobio says.

When we were kids we'd spend all day running through the streets or fishing at the bay. The Wingback kids would dive for fish, like seabirds. And your mother, she'd sit there and dip her toes in the water. She was the only human who played with us. It was a different time.

I know, dad.

I'd like to say it was love at first sight, but nooo. She hated me, haha. Absolutely despised me, and I wasn't a fan of hers either. But we grew up, we learned more about each other. There's a high school called Kurasuno there, we'd go to band together and we'd reminisce. She played tuba. It was funny, seeing her wrapped up in that thing. She was taller than me at the time but much skinnier, like a beanpole. She played like she had lungs of steel, her cheeks would puff out like a hamsters. |She really was wonderful.

Yeah.

I played viola. Much more dignified, haha. I wish I'd brought it up here with me, I could have taught you, but your mother didn't bring her tuba either. I wonder why.

I dunno.

Do you remember much about her?

A little. Sometimes.

Do you miss her?

...Yeah.

Their dad sighs, then grins at them. Ahhh, sorry my little Tobio! He reaches down and picks them up, swinging them round and round until they giggle. I've been talking so long, you must be bored. Go play outside. Be back before it's dark, okay?

Okay.

That night they get lost in the forest.

 

~*~

 

Saeko stares at the phone in her hand. So that's it. She's done it. Tanaka Saeko now has a second job, and all it took was one call to an old friend from school.

It's only part time, but it pays damn well for what it is, answering phones, a few secretarial duties. Once the paychecks start coming in she might be able to afford more than just the necessities - food, hormones, bills – actually splash out on something nice for once. She'll be here less often, though, and she might not be able to give the boys a lift every day like she used to, which is... honestly a mixed blessing. She'll have to rearrange her shifts at Seiyu and buy some proper work clothes, a nice blouse or two, a smart jacket (Saeko cringes at the thought of walking around looking like a librarian all day. The things she does for family).

But wow, a gigantic weight she hadn't even noticed was there has been lifted from her chest. She reclines in her chair, sitting at the broken dining room table. Yui's an angel. It's not like they had kept in contact much after they graduated, but Saeko hadn't even needed to remind her about the work she'd done decorating her girlfriend's shop free of charge. It had been the most tedious month of Saeko's life, but she's a sucker for true love and a pretty face.

A movement in the doorway catches her attention. She looks up to see Ryuu, scratching his neck sheepishly.

“Hey, little man, what's up?”

“Don't call me that,” he grumbles. “It's emasculating.”

Saeko barks out a laugh. “Like I give a flying fuck. You're littler than me, so you're a little man.”

“Whatever.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, lips pursed together. “I'm sorry.”

“Huh? For what?”

“The other day. Sorry for... you know... being a dick and all.”

Saeko's expression softens. She beckons Ryuu over with both of her hands and watches as he hesitantly steps towards her. As soon as he's in range she gets an arm round his neck and forces him into a headlock, cackling over his spluttered curses.

“You are the sweetest damn thing,” she says as he lets loose a litany of swears. “Apology accepted, babe.” She lets go, smiling broadly as he stumbles back and flips two middle fingers her way. “I meant it. You're not a nuisance, Ryuu. Not ever.”

He swallows and looks down, suddenly finding his left foot fascinating. “Yeah, well. You're okay, too.”

“I'm a fucking Godsend. Hey, look at me.” He peeks up from beneath his brow. “Don't say that shit again, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Damn straight. Now go do your homework.”

“Don't have any.”

Saeko snorts. “What a fucking lie, don't make me hit you.”

“It's bullshit, Saeko,” Ryuu groans, thankful for the shift away from awkward displays of familial affection. “We don't learn anything important. What about the _revolution,_ sis? What about the real important shit?”

“Ryuu, listen,” Saeko says, an unimpressed bent to her features. “I love you. You're a pain, but I love you. And you know what the real important shit for _me_ is? It's to see you get that gigantic brain in gear and become something fucking incredible. And yeah, school is bullshit, it was bullshit for me and it's bullshit for you. Tanaka's hate school, it's a fact, but at least you could be good at it. And that bullshit is your ticket to going to fucking Saitama University studying... I dunno, something that'll make you rich and give you status. Then I can go around saying to people 'see that guy who looks like he'd be an annoying little shit? That's my little brother, and he absolutely _is_ an annoying little shit who bought me this house. What's your brother ever done?' So go do your homework, and do it properly.”

Ryuu stands in stunned silence. “Alright,” he finally says, embarrassed. “I was just kidding about not doing it.”

“That's what I thought. Now get.”

She watches him shuffle off towards his room, calling an empty threat about checking his answers as he disappears around the corner. He'll be fine. She'll make sure of it.

 

~*~

 

Kageyama has no idea what they're doing. They're quite sure that this coffee machine is the robots' first step to world domination; they've scalded themself twice with hot steam and once with hot milk. Yachi had become so upset by the furious glare Kageyama directed at it that she felt compelled to apologise to the contraption, giving it a pat on the side and then blushing furiously at the look Kageyama had given her. But the pain only serves to reinforce their resolve. Kageyama _will_ dominate this machine, they will not give up.

On the plus side, they've managed to successfully make two lattes and they're well on their way to learning how to do that swirly thing with the milk. Kiyoko had (probably rightly) not yet trusted them with the grill or food prep, even though Kageyama had told her he knows how to cook (how hard can it be?) They find themself perched like a crow behind the counter, a black apron draped over their body, their determined face on. People keep catching their eye and moving immediately to Yachi or Kiyoko, but they suppose that's because they can tell Kageyama is new. Or they do until Kiyoko suggests they tone down their game face just a tad, they're scaring the customers away.

Once someone orders a mocha and Kageyama spends so long staring blankly at her face that she starts to ask if they need an ambulance. Yachi comes to their rescue, quickly making it so they can see and then going through it with them again step by step.

“Hinata's right,” she says once she's done. “You really aren't so scary.”

Kageyama smiles at her and Yachi lets out a terrified _eep_ and quickly turns around, busying herself making some kind of salad dish.

Yachi likes to talk, too. She especially likes to talk about Kiyoko, who Kageyama thinks is pretty but evidently not in the same way Yachi thinks she is. She talks about a friend of hers called Koushi, who tutored her through her exams last year and is the only one who knows about her crush (she says she won't tell who it's on. Kageyama isn't cruel enough to pop that bubble for her). She talks about how nice it is to talk to someone who isn't Kiyoko, because she always messes up her sentences when she talks to her. She talks about Hinata, how she helps him with school work and how she worries he'll get himself killed some day. Of course, she worries that about all her friends, but she worries it _especially_ about Hinata.

Yachi is nice. She makes it easier for Kageyama to forgive their own failures, always distracting them with good-natured rambling. She walks them through how to make the different kinds of hot drinks that get ordered and she tells them that next shift she'll ask Kiyoko is she can show them the grill.

“Thank you,” Kageyama says, near the end of their trial shift. “You helped a lot.”

“Oh, no, gosh, no. I like to help, and you're nice, even when you seem scary, it's no trouble at all.” She eyes the scarf Kageyama wears. “Isn't it hot in that? It's so thick. What if you get heatstroke? Oh gosh, please don't, I don't know any CPR, I'd faint.”

Kageyama instinctively grips at their scarf, buries their chin into its folds. “No. It's fine. I'd like to keep it.”

“Oh, of course! I wasn't saying you should get rid of it, it looks very nice on you!”

“Thank you.” And then, before they're even aware of themself saying it, “my dad gave it to me.”

Yachi is easy to trust. She gives off the air of someone who couldn't hurt a person if she tried. Which sets Kageyama on edge, because those are the kind of people who hurt you without trying.

She reminds them of him, of their dad. Just as bright, just as loving.

They need to keep themself under control. They can't let too much of themself out. They won't say something like that again.

Yachi bustles off home while Kageyama pulls their apron off, waving goodbye to them as she walks backwards out of the shop. Kageyama waves awkwardly back. It's strange, all these people who make them forget to be careful, first Hinata, now Yachi.

Hinata. Kageyama doesn't know where they stand with him. He's so different, so earnest, so much more than Kageyama knows what to deal with. He's a whirlwind of curiosity and sincerity, a real unkown. A real rarity. Something stirs in Kageyama's gut when they think of him. It feels like guilt but kinder.

Kiyoko's gentle voice startles Kageyama out of their thoughts. “Are you ready to go now?”

“Yes,” they say in something close to a yelp. They recover themself quickly “Yes, I'll be going now. Thank you for the opportunity.”

“Where?”

Kageyama looks questioningly up at her.

“Where are you going? Will you be meeting with Hinata? Going home?”

“Uh, home.” Home being a short alley that dead ends soon after it begins, where Kageyama keeps their backpack, carrying only their sleeping bag and an extra set of clothes, hidden underneath a dumpster. They carry all of their money on them, most in their sock and some in their pockets. It had been running dangerously low, though, most spent on food, some on entrance to the public baths. They hope they've got this job.

“Where would home be?”

“Uh... North of here.”

Kiyoko stays quiet for a second, looking them up and down. “That's the fourth time you've worn that set of clothes.”

“Huh?”

“I'd like to believe it's because you use a washing machine, but those stains say otherwise.”

Kageyama blushes a deep red. “I haven't got round to washing them,” they mumble.

“Do you live alone?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“I said, north of here.”

“Address?”

“None of your business,” Kageyama says under their breath, even though it very much is her business what with her being a potential employer. Something about Kiyoko, though, makes them very careful about being rude to her. They're still scared of her.

Kiyoko sighs deeply. “There's a room upstairs. It's small and hasn't been used in a while, you'll have to clean it up yourself, but you can rent it and I'll deduct it from your pay.”

Kageyama is about to launch into a tirade about not needing her charity when something about the sentence stops them. It takes a moment, but they manage to figure it out eventually.

“My pay?” they ask. “You're hiring me?”

“Yes.” Kiyoko smiles down at them. “You work hard, and Yachi seems to like you. I do too, actually, you're far less intimidating than you try to be.”

Kageyama gapes at her. “Oh,” they say. “Nice.”

“Yes,” Kiyoko says, smiling. “Nice.”

 

~*~

 

The thing about physics is that there's nothing flashy about it. Chemistry is taxing, but at least there's explosions, biology never has any concrete answers but you get to do that experiment where you see DNA. Physics, though, physics is all numbers and equations and theoretical situations. The most exciting thing about physics is a pendulum, and pendulums are about as exciting as dry skin.

Tadashi runs long fingers through thick straight hair as he sits with his forehead on the table in Nekoma library, textbooks opened at random pages around him and his project partner, a boy called Yaku with chocolate brown wings. It's made worse by the gnawing anxiety in his stomach. Tsukishima hasn't messaged him once today, and he's worried that he's mad at him for some reason. Usually they'd be in a back and forth by now, so late in the day, and Tadashi would be smiling because talking to Tsukishima always makes him smile. But he's not, he's trapped in physics hell with not a peep from his friend.

It would be a consolation if Yaku were having as much trouble as he was, only he isn't. Yaku seems to be one of those people who understands whatever is thrown at him without much difficulty. If Tadashi weren't the person he is, he would leave as much of the project as possible to his partner, maybe pitching in at the end to piece together the powerpoint presentation and collect the A grade Yaku worked for. It's an incredibly tempting idea, one he constantly has to push from his thoughts as he reminds himself once again of the equation for wavelength.

“You alright there?” Yaku asks. “You've been kissing those textbooks for a while now.”

Tadashi turns his head to look at Yaku. “This is so hard. How do you do it?”

“I study?”

“Nooo,” Tadashi moans.

Yaku elbows him in the side, causing Tadashi to yelp and the librarian to glare at them over the top of their spectacles. Yaku seems to have a thing for mild physical violence, which Tadashi had learned quickly. He suspects most people learn this particular facet of Yaku's personality quickly.

“Show me what you find difficult,” he says with gruff sentimentality. “I'll help you.”

“Everything.”

He elbows him again and Tadashi just barely keeps it to a whimper this time.

“I'm serious! I don't get any of this, I'm so useless.”

“You're not useless,” Yaku says, rolling his eyes. “Here, what about the visible light spectrum.”

They spend half an hour going over wavelengths and mnemonics, Yaku guiding Tadashi through with a weird mix of patience and irritation. Then, at Tadashi's suggestion, they take a fifteen minute break to look at memes.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Tadashi says after chuckling at his fifth choice meme of the day.

“Yes,” Yaku replies, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Is there a kid with grey and gold wings in your commune? Dyed blonde hair at the front?” He's not sure why he wants to know. The scene at Kiyoko's shop the other day had bothered him deeply, Tsukishima's reaction even more so. Maybe he wants to confirm that other people suffer too, not just him. Not just Tsukishima.

“Oh, I thought you were going to ask to touch my wings. No, there's no kid like that.”

“Why would I want to touch your wings?”

“I don't know, humans ask all the time, though. Sometimes they don't ask, just push their grubby little fingers right through my feathers.” Yaku shudders, a scowl on his face. “Like they own me.”

“That's not nice,” Tadashi says, kind of pathetically. It's not exactly something he can relate to. He used to get made fun of as a kid, though, because he was dark and Muslim and his parents were Pakistani. He's pretty sure he still is, come to think of it, only not to his face and not so bluntly.

“What about a kid with black wings and orange hair?” he asks after a beat of silence.

“Black wings and orange hair?” Yaku repeats. “That sounds like Hinata.”

“Hinata?”

“Yeah, he's one of Kenma's friends, you know the kid in 3-C?” Tadashi stares blankly. Yaku sighs “Pudding hair,” he says. A spark of recognition lights in Tadashi's eye. “Fuck Kuro for that nickname, I'm gonna kill him when I get home,” Yaku mutters.

“So Hinata?”

“Yeah, Hinata Shouyou. He's part of a different commune. He's nice, I guess. Kind of a lot, but nice.”

Tadashi's phone buzzees.

“Huh. Okay, thanks, Yaku.” His eyes drift to his phone on the table next to him. He sees _Tsukki_ written in the top notification. “You mind if I check -”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yaku says, waving at him, returning to his textbook, already losing interest.

Tadashi pounces on his phone. There's something perhaps unhealthy in the way he's so ready to drop everything at even the mention of Tsukishima's name, but honestly he doesn't care to analyse it too much. Chalk it up to being friends for so long.  
  


_**From: Tsukki** _

_Re: It's Yami_

_Hello Yamaguchi. Sorry to bother you like this, but I have taken Kei's phone and laptop from him. I have discovered that he was not rejected for a job but rejected himself. Please could you march his gangly butt back to that place and make him ask again. Push him into a beggar's bow if you must, he is rotting away at home._

_This is also your punishment for lying to me. No electronic communication with Kei until you make him know the sweet responsibility of a paycheck._

_All the best,_  
_Yami xx_  
  


Tadashi grimaces. Tsukishima Yami is a wonderful woman, but she's just as crafty as her son could be if he ever bothered to do anything. He sighs and stares at the numbers in front of him. There's no equation for getting over bereavement, no theory for being a good friend. Tadashi leans back in his chair. Physics is useless.

 

~*~

 

He bounces on the balls of his feet like a child, standing so close to the yellow line that each train that rushes past ruffles his hair and clothes. At intervals he'll check the time on his phone and compare it to the time on the station clock, muttering the minutes left until the train he's waiting for arrives and grinning like a maniac. Kuro has hardly stayed still all day, and the closer the promised time gets the less he seems able to control himself.

He turns to his right, seeing Akaashi standing in statuesque stillness, his opposite, and then to his left where Kenma has positioned himself behind a pillar, absorbed in a video game. The platform is dotted with people fanning themselves in the Summer heat, reading or eating or staring off into space. Each one their own little island, their own little story, their own little world which overlaps his own in this place.

Kuro fiddles with the card in his pocket, the one he had received from Suguru and which he keeps by him. He still isn't sure what to do with it, although he told Kenma he'd burn it after he had made Kuro promise not to call. He had a bad feeling, he said. It sounded fishy, he said. Still, it interests Kuro. Even if he did burn it, he's stared at it so long by now that he's pretty sure he has the numbers memorised.

What would be the harm in calling, in just seeing what there is to discover? A trick that makes psychics less effective. A power he could earn and keep for himself. What would be the harm in tasting that?

Akaashi shifts at his side, moving their weight from their right leg to their left one. They stand watching the tracks in the distance, where another train begins to materialise on the horizon. Their skin, light brown, catches the light as the sun descends so that they almost glow. And when the dark comes properly they really will glow, the loose curls of their hair turning into a halo.

Daows are strange, people call them human monsters in a way that sounds deprecating from monster lips and offensive from human ones. They're no stronger or weaker than humans, they look no different, they have no special abilities except for one: they glow in the dark. They've been associated with luck, with love, with angels and, until about a hundred years ago, kept as charms by the wealthy. As the sun sets and Akaashi stands, still save for that one tiny shift of their weight, Kuro can almost understand where the myriad of false associations comes from. Akaashi looks ethereal, like something that has stepped onto Earth from a place outside time and space.

“That's his train,” they say with their head turned away from Kuro, in a voice that comes from everywhere at once. And then they turn to look at Kuro, smile wider than he's ever seen them smile before, and Kuro can't help but smile back.

Kenma pads up next to Kuro, sticking close by his side and still playing his game. The train slows to a smooth stop in front of them, the doors slide open, Kenma grabs onto his shirt as commuters pile out and scatter like woodlice from under a brick. Kuro and Akaashi stand on tip-toes and crane their heads around, searching for a Featherhead with grey and black hair. It doesn't take long, Bokuto is tall and sticks out like a sore thumb even amongst the throng of humans and monsters, a large bag draped over his shoulder and a luggage suitcase trailing behind him. He appears two carriages up from them, moving his head from side to side just like Kuro and Akaashi are, grinning when he catches Kuro's eye and pushing himself through the mass to disgruntled exclamations from his fellow passengers.

The crowd thins as he gets close, and he immediately pulls Akaashi away from the tracks and swoops them down into a kiss. Kuro claps and whoops until Kenma hits him. When they rise back up, Akaashi looking more than a little flushed, Kuro runs full pelt at Bokuto and smothers him in a hug, kissing the parts of his scalp and forehead he can get to past his hair and feathers.

The sun hangs like an opal in the sky, evening light bursting from behind concrete structures. It stains the clouds orange, letting loose all its colour before it drags it all away again.

It's only then, when the train has set off and once again there are only disparate islands of people on the platform, that Kuro can take a good look at his friend. Bokuto looks tired, but he smiles. He has a face like moulding clay, expressive and shifting, with a brow fringed in grey and black feathers. His legs and arms are long, longer than a human's, ending in pointed digits and covered in the same feathers that line his head and work their way through his hair. It may be a trick of the light, but they don't shine the way they should on a healthy Featherhead, and his back is arched in a slump that speaks of a tired more to do with his bones than his day.

But maybe that's to be expected, whatever the reason he's back permanently from his training, it can't be a good one. For now, Kuro is happy just to see him. Bokuto is back. Kuro can smile enough for the both of them.

He asks what Bokuto wants to do and he shrugs listlessly. “I'm kind of tired. Long trip.” Akaashi rubs his arm sympathetically.

“We can do something later though, right? I missed you, Bo, I need to see more of that face.”

Bokuto laughs, his expression sculpted into something brighter, something less troubled. “Sure! I missed you too!” He lifts his head skyward and sighs deeply. “I'm so tired my face hurts. Email me about it tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, totally.”

Bokuto's expression goes serious for a moment. “Promise me.”

“I promise I'll email you.”

And then he's grinning again, nodding and giggling, kissing Akaashi as he drapes an arm over their shoulders, waving as he leaves the station with them. And he's gone, but not for long this time, in the same town this time. Kuro feels giddy.

“Now I need to organise a bro-date,” Kuro says to Kenma, who comes to stand next to him.

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Why do you keep doing that? Just call it a date.”

“Nah, you're the only one I go on dates with.” Kuro thinks? God, in all the time he's known Kenma, in all the time they've gotten close, they've never once had the 'what are we' conversation. And he would ask outright, avoid this whole song and dance, except the prospect of Kenma not feeling the same way, not having the same fierce want to be close, that's not something Kuro can deal with. Instead Kuro pushes his luck with comments like this, hoping that Kenma will take up the baton and confirm or deny any relationship they have. He never does, of course, but that's okay. As long as he stays Kuro's Kenma, then that's fine. He doesn't need anything else.

Kenma blushes and mutters something very quietly, pushing past him and towards the exit.

“Hey, do you wanna come too?” Kuro asks. “Then it can be a real date.” He jogs to catch up. “We can invite Akaashi too, like a double date. That sounds so magical, doesn't it honey? A big gay family outing.”

“You don't do the gay thing,” Kenma mutters, not looking back at him.

“You do. I'll be gay for you, I'm down with that.” Wow, okay, Kuro might have to tone it down a bit, this is coming off as desperate.

“Please, Kuro, stop.” Kuro swallows a lump of something hard and sharp and stops talking. He chuckles, feigning light-heartedness. Ouch.

He brings a hand up to his chest. Ouch.

“Got any ideas?” he asks, changing the subject, pushing down the hurt. “We could go to the movies? But I want to be able to talk to him, so that's no good.”

Kenma turns his head towards Kuro, that look on his face which says he's considering something. He turns his head back to the street in front of him, picking his way carefully through the gathering dark.

“I know a place,” Kenma says.

 

~*~

 

A knock at the door.

Noya frowns. Anyone in the commune would have walked right in after they announced themselves like that, but silence stretches on without another sound, not the light footsteps of a family member or a call asking to borrow sugar. He looks over at Hinata, who avoids Noya's eyes suspiciously as he lounges on Noya's bed attempting to do homework.

Noya narrows his eyes. If this is some prank Hinata has cooked up he's going to have some choice words to share with his young friend. He considers staying belly-down on the floor, ignoring the problem and hoping it'll go away, but the knock comes again, more hesitantly this time, and Noya grits his teeth before he shouts that he's coming, he's coming, hold your fucking horses.

It's late, Noya's mother is dozing in her room and probably wouldn't come out for the apocalypse. He steps quietly through the apartment and to the door, sensing Hinata follow behind him. He steps on tip-toes to look through the peephole.

And there he is, tall and bearded, a mountain of unsaid things. He whispers nervously to Suga beside him, wringing his hands together like washcloths. Noya recoils.

“What the fuck.”

Hinata putters over to him. “Is that Asahi?”

“Yes!” Noya hisses quietly, raking claws through his hair. “Why is he here, what the fuck, what the _fuck._ ” He turns on Hinata, standing sheepishly in the middle of the front room.

“I, uh, kind of invited him over.”

“Shouyou!” Noya shouts. His eyes dart guiltily to the hallway and his mother's door beyond. “Shouyou,” he repeats quieter, “what the _fuck_ do you think you're doing? How the _fuck_ is this your business?”

“I'm sorry!” he whispers, holding his palms out. “But please, Noya, you have to talk to him.”

“No I fucking don't. What the _fuck._ ”

He hears Asahi's low voice through the door, saying “we should go,” and he hears Suga's higher one telling him “stay right there.”

“Please, Noya, I don't wanna see you sad anymore -”

“No. Nah, no. Get out, I can't do this. Jesus, Shouyou keep your nose out of my fucking affairs. An tell _him_ to fuck off, too.”

“Wait, wait!” Hinata says, as Noya pushes him roughly towards the door. “Okay, if you want me to leave I will – I said wait! Let me finish talking first, God.” Hinata grabs Noya's hand in his own. “I won't let go, not ever. I'm sorry for being so bad at being your friend. But please, Noya, please, I don't wanna see you sad anymore, and I know Tanaka doesn't either. You're my friend, Noya. You're family. Please talk to him, please stop hurting like this. I'll be here as long as you need me. I won't let go. So talk to him. Make it my birthday present.”

Noya pulls a hand over his face. He makes a soft whining noise and the look he gives Hinata is so raw and open it makes him wince. Noya doesn't want to do this. No, more than that, this is very literally the last thing he wants to do. He doesn't want to see Asahi, he doesn't want to remember the argument, he doesn't want to get angry at him again and feel that squirming fear and remember all of his mistakes. But now he's trapped between a rock and a hard place, Hinata on one side and Asahi on the other. He wonders if that was Hinata's plan all along.

He stares at the doorknob for a while before he stretches his hand towards it. He doesn't want to do this. He can't do this. He feels Hinata's hand in his and he feels the way he squeezes. He bashes his forehead against the door, growls, and with one swift, violent movement, he opens the door.

And there he is, standing next to Suga, on the verge of tears. Small despite how big he is. The wave of affection that courses through Noya nearly floors him, all those days without his presence come like waves to remind him of how much this boy means to him. And all that fear, too, all that terror, like ink in water, bleeding out and tainting everything.

Asahi is all those possibilities, all the things that could be. Asahi is the future, terrifying. An abyss, a leap. A trust fall into nothing.

Asahi opens his mouth and makes a squeaking noise, then closes it. Suga kicks him and he nearly stumbles into the doorframe. “Say something,” Suga hisses.

“I'm so sorry, Yuu.”

And it's enough to break Noya's resolve, the final straw which shatters his bitterness and leaves his body an open casket of emotions he can't put a name to. Noya pulls his hand out of Hinata's, takes a few fumbling steps forward and wraps himself around Asahi's middle. He feels two big arms come down around him.

“Hinata, don't we have a thing?” Suga says.

“What? No.”

Noya laughs wetly. “You can go now, Shouyou.”

“I want to watch.”

“You're so fucking creepy,” Noya whispers.

“I'm not creepy!” Noya doesn't see Hinata's face because his own is pressed into Asahi's chest, but he can imagine the look of outrage on it. “I'm a good friend!”

“Yeah, you're the best friend.” Noya giggles. This has all been so much. And even despite the long, long conversation he knows is coming, despite the way Asahi will tease Noya's feelings out of him the way only he can, he feels happy. Or, not so much happy, the weight of his sadness still bears down on his back, but with Asahi beside him, all around him, he feels better. Lighter. “Get the fuck out of my house.”

Hinata grumbles, moving past the tangled limbs of Noya and Asahi and out the door. He exchanges a few words with Suga, his voice getting more and more distant as he walks away. Noya ignores it. He stays with Asahi until his arms get tired.

 

~*~

 

“I never meant to-”

“I know.”

“I'm sorry, Yuu, I'm so, so sorry. If I could control myself better -”

Noya places an arm on Asahi's face, shutting him up. They lie together in Noya's bed, Noya resting his head on Asahi's chest, using his unoccupied hand to draw circles on his sternum.

“I'm sorry, too.”

“You don't have to be. It's not your fault.”

“It's not yours, either.”

“But it is."

“Shhh, Asahi. If it's your fault then it's mine too.”

A simple quiet, happy to be together.

“Hinata said you were sad.”

“He says a lot of things.”

“Were you?”

“...I guess.”

“I'm sorry.”

“We've talked about this.”

Asahi chuckles softly. “Yeah. Are you still sad?”

“No.”

“Really? 'Cause, when I'm anxious, or, scared, you're always there for me. I want to be here for you, too. You can tell me. I-I mean, if you want, if you don't want to that's fin-”

“It doesn't go away. Or if it does, I know it'll come back. But it's my thing to deal with, don't worry about it.”

“Yuu.”

Noya laughs. “Yeah, okay, dumb thing to say. It's okay, though, you really don't have to worry.”

“I want to.”

“You want to?”

“N-no. Not – I don't want to, I guess. No, that's wrong too.” Asahi stays quiet for a second, thinking. “I wish I didn't have to worry about it, but I would anyway. I don't worry in a bad way. I think? I worry because... I want. To see you happy. All the time.”

Noya lets his head fall back down onto Asahi's chest, smiling. “You're so cute.”

“I am?”

“Yeah.”

“People say I'm scary.”

“People who don't know you.”

“I can be scary.”

Noya laughs loudly, then covers his mouth with his hands at the noise. Asahi smiles down at him.

“If you get sad again, I'll scare it away for you. Every time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You're so cute,” Noya repeats.

“I'm not so sure I believe that.”

“You are. You've been cute since I met you at that dumb sports thing Ryuu dragged me to.”

“Really?”

Noya grins. “Totally.”

“I should thank Tanaka, I think. For bringing you.”

“Yeah. So should I.” Noya sighs, holds Asahi closer to himself. “We should date.”

“Date? As in – you mean, you mean like, boyfriends date?”

“Yeah. If you want.”

Asahi laughs. His arms snakes around Noya's shoulder.

“I'd like that.”

 

~*~

 

Hinata jumps from foot to little foot next to Nishinoya, who bawls and rubs his arms on the floor. He hadn't meant to throw his ball into the wild trifoliate patch behind the commune, he had just wanted to play, it had been an accident. That's what he told his mum, too, but Nishinoya ran off crying like he always does and now Hinata has to go and apologise to him even though it's not his fault.

He found him wailing at the border of the patch, looking longingly at his ball stuck amidst bushes and thorns. He had apologised but Nishinoya didn't seem to hear him, crying loudly the way he was. Now Hinata just wants him to stop. It makes him feel sick, but not properly sick like he's going to throw up, weird sick, guilty sick. He wants it to stop.

Maybe we can go get it, Hinata shouts to Nishinoya over the noise he makes. Nishinoya sniffs, hiccups, shakes his head. He calms down enough to reply.

It's too far in. It'll hurt.

Can't your parents help?

N-no, Nishinoya stutters. My mum's at sea. She's not coming back for-for-for-

Nishinoya starts wailing again.

Can your dad go get it?

Nishinoya shakes his head hard. Can _yours_?

I dunno, my dad's in prison.

He is? Is he bad?

No! He's great and really big and kind and he could beat your dad up.

Could he? Nishinoya asks. Can you ask him?

Yeah! Why? Is _your_ dad bad?

Nishinoya doesn't say anything, just rubs his arms. Then he nods.

Yeah, I'll ask him when he gets back, Hinata says. He waits until Nishinoya's sniffles slow to a stop, then he grabs his hand and drags him away. Come on, he says. Let's go play.

You believe me.

Yeah? Why wouldn't I?

Adults never believed me.

I'm not an adult. Come _on,_ let's play.

Nishinoya looks over his shoulder. My ball.

It's okay. We'll get it later. I want to play with you.

Why?

You don't have any friends.

I do too!

No you don't, liar. It's okay, neither do I. That means we can be friends.

You're such a baby, Nishinoya says moodily. That's not how it works.

Well how's it supposed to work, then?

You have to ask.

Oh. Okay. Do you want to be friends with me? I'm sorry for your ball.

Nishinoya kicks the ground. 'S'okay. I've got another one, anyway. Can I call you Shouyou?

Sure! Hinata beams at him. I don't wanna call you Yuu, though. What about Nish? No, Noya.

Nishinoya chews this over. He looks up at Hinata, who continues to drag him by the hand away from the trifiolate patch. The sun lights his hair up like fire, shines off his wings, transforms him into a little angel. He nods.

Yeah, Noya says. I like that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in this AU Sakoku was never a thing because of a series of events which included monster (especially Wingback) involvement which I will not explain here for length reasons and because I don't want to give the impression that I'm any kind of expert on Japanese history. Suffice to say that the main reason is because I wanted a diversity of people of colour out the wazoo for this fic, because I am a people of colour.
> 
> I'm also not using honorifics, because I know no matter how well I think I know them I'll get it wrong at some point and look like a dick.

**Author's Note:**

> Noya is a precious bean and I love him.


End file.
